


The King and I

by iwillpaintasongforlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Harry, Bottom Niall, Car Sex, Criminal AU, I have a slight royalty fetish, M/M, Royalty AU, Top Liam, Top Louis, although niall and liam sort of wrestle for control a lot but anyways, and urban royalty is even worse, bad language, basically an excuse to write everyone being awed of louis, mentions of violence but nothing on-screen, who is in fact a king
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:28:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/iwillpaintasongforlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis -better known as The Rogue- is the legendary King of the Thieves of London, the underground network of criminals who run the city. Zayn is his second in command, Niall is an Irish fugitive with ultra high-tech hacking skills, and Liam is a dirty cop who lets Rogue and his crew get away with just about anything. Harry is Britain’s absolute worst criminal and a professional scapegoat who flees Cheshire in search of good treatment, and just might find it under the wing of London’s regal mastermind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from the 1951 musical (and ensuing films) entitled "The King and I" by Rodgers & Hammerstein. Inspiration from Jordan. I'm not sure if you still read what I write, but thank you for the spark that started the flame.

_**The Thieves’ Code** _

  1. _Respect the King and his Knight; take their word as law except where superseded by this Thieves’ Code._
  2. _If called upon by the King, serve as his Knight; upon his death, secession or removal from the crew take his place as King and choose a Knight from the crew_
  3. _Take no lawful employment, living only on means gleaned from thievery._
  4. _Help other thieves -- both by moral and material support, through the formation and maintenance of thieves’ crews._
  5. _Steal nothing without permission of the King; conduct no operations outside of the official sanction of_
  6. _Guard secrets of the King and his crew without exception, as with whereabouts of accomplices, their activities, etc._
  7. _In unavoidable situations take the blame for another's crime when sanctioned by King to protect fellow thief and good of the crew._
  8. _Demand a counsel of inquiry for the purpose of resolving disputes in the event of a conflict between oneself and other thieves, or between thieves. Such counsel will consist of King, Knight, and the crew’s oldest member to stand as jury in dispute between parties or in case between accuser and defendant._
  9. _Attend and, if called to, bear witness in such inquiries._
  10. _Carry out the punishment of the offending thief as decided by the counsel._
  11. _Not resist carrying out the decision of punishing the offending thief who is found guilty, with punishment determined by the counsel._
  12. _Teach the trade to beginners to the best of their abilities._
  13. _Under no circumstances cooperate with, give information to, or otherwise aid the authorities. If captured admit no guilt and accept no bargain, except when otherwise instructed by the King._
  14. _Hold no allegiance- familial, romantic, patriotic or otherwise- as greater than that of a thief and his crew._
  15. _Act ever towards the good of the crew, the King, and the Code_



…………………

When you live in the underbelly of a city, there are certain things you start to learn. The routes that patrol cars usually take, for one. Which parts of town belong to which dealers, and how far their reach extends. How to tell when someone is sneaking up behind you in the shadows.

He feels, rather than hears, the approaching presence. They’re good- if he strains, he can hear tiny pats as soft shoes meet pavement. That’s it, though- there’s no rustle of clothing, no rasp of breath that could give them away. A worthy opponent, then. He fingers the switchblade in his pocket.

But he needn't have worried, because it’s a familiar voice that calls out through the dark. "Rogue, it's me."

Louis Tomlinson, The Rogue, King of the Thieves here in London, turns around to peer across the dim alley to see the outline of Zayn Malik, his knight. Now that they’re just a meter apart, he can smell the aroma of smoke and paint that always seems to accompany the dark-haired lad.

"How's it looking in there?" Louis mutters, turning back to the scene before him. Across the street, the darkened windows of a pawn shop storefront are lighting up with flickers from flashlights. A half dozen of Louis' crew are somewhere inside, and if everything goes according to plan, they’re about to score Louis' rent for the next three months.

"From what I can tell, it's going ace," Zayn replies. "Niall had the security system down within 30 seconds. He hacked into the receipts for the last week, too. Pointed out a few things we can fence pretty easy but still make good cash off of."

"Didn't I fucking say not to get sidetracked?" Louis groans. "We went in for the cash and the gold, not broken TVs and musty coats."

"I know," Zayn says calmly. "But the whole op was only supposed to be a five-minute smash and grab. I didn't have time to fuck around arguing with Tucker."

Louis feels a familiar headache instantly appear in his left temple, right in what he likes to call the Tucker Zone. "Shit. Should have known that wasn't Niall's idea. He knows better than to pull shit like that. He's a better thief than that."

"We have to let Tucker go on _some_ ops," Zayn points out. "You know he gets restless and has a lot of stupid ideas when we try to rein him in."

"And he gets stupid ideas when we _don't."_

"Lifting a few extra items from a heist we're already doing is better than that bank robbery shit he brought up last month." Zayn claps a hand on Louis' shoulder on his way past. He's across the street without being touched by the light of the streetlamps, tapping on the glass of the pawn shop as the signal to wrap up. One by one the flashlights disappear into the depths of the store and out the back.

"We're going to have to talk about this," Louis says quietly as they climb into his car, a pretty, black little thing he stole from the Prime Minister's personal assistant.

Zayn nods solemnly. "I'll take care of it, sir. As soon as we're home."

………………...

Home, to Louis, is not what one might expect for a man who wrangles street rats for a living. He lives in a luxury apartment in one of the better parts of town, one with a view and a pool on the roof of the building. With only one bedroom, it isn't _overly_ extravagant- after all, it was just him there. What did he need extra bedrooms for?

The only person who even knows the location is Zayn, who insists on living in the den with the others despite Louis’ numerous offers to get him his own flat. "We're flush this month, enough for a studio in my building," he would mention casually when Zayn ran numbers with him.

But it’s always met with a quiet shake of the head. "Save it in case something comes up," Zayn would advise. "Besides, someone has to keep an eye the kids."

'The kids' refers to the assortment of thieves from the London crew who choose to live in the warehouse that is their headquarters. Not all of them live there- plenty choose to live out in the city with their families or each other. But a good half of the warehouse is a maze of tents that house those of the crew who opt for free shelter and a short commute. The other half is an assortment of random furniture that usually holds lounging troublemakers and occasionally holds what Louis playfully calls 'staff meetings' wherein they plan ops and cons and whatever else sounds fun.

They didn't keep the stolen goods there, of course; Louis is smarter than that, much to the chagrin of the cops who occasionally raid the place. Technically it’s all aboveboard, just a warehouse rented to one Louis Tomlinson that happens to house a whole lot of questionable characters.

Louis' favorite feature is the office above the floor space. One whole wall is windows, through which Louis can look out and observe the entirety of the den. He likes to just sit and watch sometimes, to take in the sight of these bright young troublemakers milling around.

It’s a strange sort of feeling, to look at them and know that they’re all trusting him to guide and protect them. Some are barely younger than him- a few are even older than Louis- and yet for most he’s as much their father as anyone who created them. A big brother, at least.

And if Louis is the father, Zayn is the mother to this little family of criminals. At least he makes his permanent home in the office space instead of rooming down with everyone else - _some_ semblance of authority has to be maintained, after all. But he has always preferred to stay in the building where he’s close to the crew. He’s the quiet, approachable one that they trust their problems to, and he never lets them down.

That doesn’t stop him from playing enforcer, of course; Zayn is always what he needs to be. Sometimes that’s a mum. Other times that’s the guy breaking your nose for putting the crew in danger.

The fresh fat lip on Tucker’s face is visible from the office, as is the uncomfortable hunch to Niall’s shoulders as he notices Tucker glaring at him. The feisty Irish lad is relatively new to the London crew, having wandered into the city looking for a job in technology and turning to the streets when everyone wanted a college degree he didn’t have. Everyone here warmed up to him pretty quickly, given his quick laugh, easygoing nature, and ability to hack anything with a screen, but Tucker looks none too fond at the moment.

“Watch Tucker,” Louis says quietly, trusting that Zayn is somewhere in the room behind him.

“I always do,” replies Zayn, because of course he is.

“But especially, I mean. He’s cutting eyes at Niall and I don’t like it.”

“Niall? That’s bloody ridiculous, Niall’s nice to everybody-”

“He probably thinks Niall got him in trouble about the op,” Louis shrugs. “Four years I’ve known him and not once has he taken responsibility for a mistake.”

“Because you know _all_ about responsibility.”

Louis sticks his nose up in the air and sniffs with false haughtiness. “I keep food in your mouth, don’t I?”

“I could put food in my own mouth and you fucking know it!”

“Ah, but with a face like that, you shouldn’t have to,” the king replies cheekily, reaching over and giving Zayn’s dark hair a playful ruffle.

“Mmm.”

“I’m going to head home, I think,” Louis says after a pause, looking at his watch. “The sun’s coming up so my work here is done. Anything that can’t wait ‘til tonight?”

“Nah, I think you’re all set,” Zayn decides. “Tomorrow we need to talk to Hopper about fencing that shit from the pawn shop, but it’s not in the den so it can wait.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you then, yeah? ‘night.”

Zayn tosses Louis his keys, which he’s made it halfway to the door without missing. The smirk on his lips doesn’t go unnoticed. “Goodnight, Rogue.”

…………………

Sunset is by far Louis’ favorite time of day. For someone who sleeps all day and stays up all night, sunset is like morning; Louis can watch the sun go down feeling rested, refreshed, and ready for what’s to come.

And then of course there’s the matter of how everyone _else_ is around sunset. For the non-thief 99.99% of the city, this is the end of yet another long, hard day. London feels like a sigh, like the entire city is propping up its feet and checking out all at once. The bustle is dying down, the traffic thinning, and the people are way easier to pickpocket.

Normally a pastime like that was beneath Louis. He’s King of the Thieves, after all- a nice con or a master heist is more his pace. Anyone that was good with their hands could slip a wallet from a coat pocket or pick up a phone on their way past a table. Sleight of hand was child’s play.

But then, Louis is rather fond of acting like a child whenever he can.

Tonight he leaves the car at home and walks from the flat to the den, sticking to the wrong side of the sidewalk so he can bump into as many people as possible. It isn’t three minutes before he has to duck into a quiet side street to examine his prizes- you can only fit about seven or eight wallets into these coat pockets before you appear to be smuggling hamsters, anyways.

“Thank you, Dean Hancock,” Louis says politely as he throws Dean’s empty wallet into a dumpster. “And you, Lisa Gabrowski, for your contribution.” Cash he pockets, along with any IDs he can find. He hates to make it easy on cops by leaving names lying around, and besides, you never know when one of his kids will need to become a Lisa or a Dean for a day.

Credit cards he pockets as well, but only so that he can shred them later. They’re almost always deactivated within a day anyways, and places that accept credit cards tend to have security cameras, which tend to capture footage of little rookie thieves on a spending spree.

With his pockets loaded, Louis continues on his merry way to the den. Across the bridge, cut through the park, past the convenience store that keeps selling those damn cigarettes to his underage kids (note to self: do something about that), hang a left at the homeless shelter. He slips the donations of Lisa and Dean and all their pals into the collection box as he passes.

It isn’t so much about the money, anyways. Louis has plenty of that- he’s the head of a very successful and therefore very lucrative citywide operation. Even if he _was_ strapped for cash, it would take him ten minutes to get twice that much money with a fraction of the risk.

No, it isn’t about the money. It’s about the thrill. Let other people take the profit, but give him the thrill of knowing that he’s managed to pull of something he shouldn’t, that he’s outsmarted a crowd, that he’s… king.

It’s properly dark by the time he gets to the warehouse. There’s music inside- too loud, like it usually is when the crew knows daddy isn’t home- and more lights turning on by the second. Just the start of another typical night in the London underbelly.

Louis can see two figures in the alleyway next to the back entrance, and for a moment his breath stops as he takes in a police uniform and a slight boy pressed between him and a wall. _Great, barely half eight and they’re already doing a raid._ He almost calls out when-

“Niall,” Louis sighs, relieved. “It’s just you.”

The blonde boy jumps in surprise at Louis’ voice and makes it a point to shove back the man nuzzling up to him. “Hey, Rogue,” he replies with a nervous titter, face flushed. “Um, we were just-”

“You don’t have to tell me what men do in dark alleys, thanks,” Louis teases mercilessly. “My mum taught me about that ages ago. Good to see you, Liam, as always.”

Officer Liam Payne gives a little wave and moves to lean once more on the brick wall quite close to Niall’s head. Normally Louis makes it a point not to keep cops on payroll- they’re never as helpful as you think they’ll be, no matter how dirty they are, and having cops hang around is just generally bad for business. But then, it was _Liam_ who’d fallen into _his_ lap. Everyone knows he’s whipped to death for a little blonde hacker, and if turning a blind eye to certain things at certain times puts him one step closer to that boy’s affection… well, so be it.

“Evening, Rogue,” Liam says easily, all nonchalance. “How’s it going?”

“Not too shabby, to be fair,” returns Louis. “Have a favor to ask of you, though.”

“What, no foreplay?”

“There’s your foreplay right there,” Louis teases with a wink in Niall’s direction. “Besides, it’s all perfectly aboveboard. You have my word.”

Liam’s smirk stands out even in the dim lighting. “The word of a thief.”

“A thief with a _code,_ Officer, and don’t you forget it. Listen, you know that corner shop two streets over with that ugly yellow awning?”

“The Quick Dash? Yeah, what about it?”

“They keep putting cigarettes in the mouths of my damn kids,” Louis scowls. “If they want to fuck up their lungs when they’re legal, they can have at it, but not the minors, yeah?”

“Are you telling me to bust a criminal to protect your criminals from a habit that you, yourself take part in?”

“Well when you put it like that... yes.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you,” Liam replies, and the way his eyes are glued to Niall’s face make it tricky to tell exactly who he’s addressing.

That’s Louis’ cue to leave. “Well I hate to leave without cuddling you after, but I’ve got to be off,” he says slyly as he backs towards the door. “You kids have fun.”

“Actually, Liam was just going. Right, Li?” Niall successfully dodges the man’s goodbye kiss and trots to catch up with his fearless leader. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles.

“Which bit?”

“Liam hanging around. He’s so bloody _persistent.”_

Maybe it’s bad form to be talking so informally with someone that technically works for him, but the kid has spunk and Louis definitely plays favorites. He grins over at Niall in the flickering light of the lobby. “You know you’re going to have to either give in or cut him loose at some point, right?” he says quietly. “You’ve been playing hard to get with the poor guy for months.”

“I know. I’m just not sure…”

“Isn’t my place to say, but you might give him credit for rewriting his moral code just for the chance to flirt with you.” Louis watches Niall’s face get red all over again and laughs. “Just food for thought, kid. Now go hack into those financial records Zayn gave you last week.”

Niall rushes off to obey, eager as ever to please, and Louis ascends to the office. Zayn is already there, stacks of papers at the ready for the evening brief. As much as he loves running the thieving underground of his nation’s capital, this bit is always a drag for Louis. So many numbers, so many words, and so few excuses that would let him get out of listening to them all.

“Alright, hit me,” Louis says, grabbing a beer from the fridge and a lighter from on top of it. “What did last night’s numbers look like?”

Papers shuffle as Zayn searches for the right spreadsheet. “I had Gina do it up- that’s the new girl, the mathy one- and according to her we made out pretty good. About ten thousand pounds, between the cash and the gold.”

 _Not bad._ “What’s the overhead?”

“Next to nothing. Didn’t have to pay anyone off to do the job, already had all the tools… not even any fencing costs on the gold. Nothing we took is fancy enough that it’d get recognized if we just pawned it to another shop.”

“Speaking of things we took,” Louis says drily, “anything come of Tucker’s little stunt?”

There’s a brief second where Zayn looks a little nervous before he speaks. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about this, but. I told Tucker to take care of that shit himself. I figured if he wants to run his own heist then he can find his own place to keep the shit and make a connection with his own fence.”

Louis takes a long drag on his cigarette as he considers this new, creative approach to disciplining the non-compliant. “I like it,” he declares at last. “Sends a good message. ‘Fuck around if you want, but we don’t have your back if you do.’ Nice call.”

“Not too harsh?”

“Tucker’s a dick, he deserves it for putting the crew at risk. Are we done here?”

Zayn plucks the cigarette from between Louis’ fingers and takes a drag- something only he could have gotten away with. “Almost. One more thing. You’ve got some guy here that wants to see you,” he exhales with the smoke. He flicks the ash off the end of the cigarette and hands it back to his king. “Asked for you by name. I tried to handle him myself but he just stood there looking pathetic, so.”

The spice of that Thai food Zayn loves lingers on the filter when Louis puts it back between his lips. “One of ours?”

“Nah, I’ve never seen him before. He approached G when he was picking pockets by the Eye and asked to be taken to The Rogue. He’s waiting in the van down the street with G and Frito.”

“An outsider came here looking specifically for me?” Louis asks sharply. “How the fuck would he even know to ask for me?”

“He talks like a thief, but he isn’t one of ours,” shrugs Zayn. “If he’s in a crew anywhere in England, though, he’d know about The Rogue.”

That’s true enough. Louis had never intended for his reputation to go viral like that- hell, the whole point of being a criminal was to fly under the radar- but it wasn’t anything he could help. Even when he goes home to Doncaster to see his family, the Yorkshire crew knows him.

The cigarette between his lips is burning out and so is moonlight. “Alright, send him in,” Louis says as he snubs the embers out in his already overcrowded ashtray. “I’ve got things to do tonight, might as well get this kid out of the way.”

“Yes sir,” Zayn says, and just like that they’re back to being the king and his knight, all business. “You want to see him here, or-?”

“Show him up here. Bring him in the back way,” replies Louis, eyes flicking to the windows through which he could see his crew milling around in the factory’s floor space below. “I don’t want everyone riled up about an outsider in the den. They’ve got work to do tonight and I don’t want fuckups happening because they’re careless.”

“Yes sir,” Zayn says again, slipping out the door. Louis waits, one hand turning his pack of smokes over and over absentmindedly while the other holds his phone. He’s got a to-do list that seems to scroll on endlessly and a brain that won’t quit adding to it.

He doesn’t hear Zayn enter- you never hear a good thief coming- but when Frito follows him in with the outsider, Louis’ first thought is that this _can’t_ be a thief. His feet trip along on the worn carpet, clunking and shuffling like a toddler rather than the grown man he turns out to be. At least it makes sense when Louis looks up to investigate- not only does he have a blindfold over his eyes, but he’s got limbs that seem a little too long for his body, even with his wrists trussed behind his back.

Zayn meets his eyes with a knowing glance- _Can you believe this kid?_ “You can go, Frito, thanks,” he dismisses on Louis’ behalf, watching to make sure that the boy shut the door behind him before turning to address the tall stranger. “Don’t move,” he instructs, moving to the windows to shut the blinds. The tiny room gets impossibly dimmer.

“Okay,” comes the simple response. He has a deep voice, the kind that makes even one word sound slow and smooth.

“You want this to stay on?” Zayn asks of Louis, flicking his wrist to indicate the blindfold and the ties. It only takes Louis half a second to gesture them away. There’s no way some kid with clumsy limbs would get the drop on London’s two best thieves- even if he _is_ the size of a giraffe. The knife in Zayn’s pocket makes quick work of the zip ties that bind the boy, and slowly, cautiously, big hands reach up to pull the blindfold off.

Green eyes find Louis’ immediately and the stranger smiles, like he hasn’t been escorted across the city bound up in the back of the van on his way to see someone who is arguably one of London’s most dangerous and powerful men. “Hello,” he says meekly. “I’m Harry Styles.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry Styles. I’m the man you’ve been looking for.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first chaptered fic in a while, since Give Me Truths! I've been writing this on and off and between projects since before GMT was even finished, and I'm so, so delighted to be sharing it with you now. Those who put up with me enough to let me send them my unpublished works long before the rest of the world sees them all say it's their favorite, so I hope you all enjoy it as well!
> 
> Just for general information, the fic is 44k long and will be 13 chapters. I have it all written already (as always) and I'll be posting a new chapter every day!
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	2. Chapter 2

Green eyes find Louis’ immediately and the stranger smiles, like he hasn’t been escorted across the city bound up in the back of the van on his way to see someone who is arguably one of London’s most dangerous and powerful men. “Hello,” he says meekly. “I’m Harry Styles.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry Styles. I’m the man you’ve been looking for.”

The boy- Harry- raises his eyebrows. _“You’re_ The Rogue?”

Louis snorts a little despite himself. “I hope so. I’ve got it tattooed on my ankles. Might be awkward if that wasn’t me. Why, who were you expecting?”

“Someone older,” replies Harry, too quick to be anything but honest. “You’re legend where I come from. Thought you’d be like, some old guy who’s been doing this for like, fifty years.”

“Do you hear that, Zayn?” Louis huffs. “People think I’m old!”

“Wait, no, that’s not how I meant it! I didn’t say that I thought you were old,” Harry backtracked before Zayn could even join in the banter. “I just meant that because like, you’re so good. Normally people aren’t the best at stuff when they’re only like twenty.”

“Lucky for us all I’m not ‘normal people,’ then, eh?” Louis stands and moves a few strides closer to his visitor. “Where are you from, Harry Styles?”

“Cheshire. Holmes Chapel.”

“You part of the crew there?”

A flicker of hesitation. “Y-yes.”

Louis isn’t quite buying the shifty-eyed answer. “You don’t seem too sure about that. Who’s the king over there?”

“Archie,” Harry quickly replies. “I swear I was with them. I’m just- erm. Well, I’m not really anymore.”

Zayn and Louis share a quick glance. Archie is kind of a smarmy guy, from what they knew of him, but a thief that’s no longer a part of his crew is almost always bad news. Expulsion from a crew is usually the result of having broken the Thieves Code in a major way- anything less and your crew would still be standing behind you.

Knowing that makes Louis feel a little more on edge. This kid may look harmless, but if he broke the Code… “What did you do?”

“What did I- what?”

“What did you do?” repeats Louis. “Why did the Cheshire crew kick you out?”

“They didn’t kick me out at all, I swear,” Harry says, neck flushing in embarrassment. “I- I left.”

Louis mulls that over for a moment, eyes carefully evaluating the increasingly complex puzzle that had walked through his door. There sre a thousand different reasons someone might desert their crew, ranging from the very innocent to the very dangerous. Being a deserter is sometimes almost as bad as being a Code breaker, Louis knows. But whatever the truth, it can’t hurt to at least hear him out, right?

“Have a seat, Harry,” he says at last. “Zayn, get him a beer. Now, Harry, you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

The poor kid is so caught off guard by the directness of Louis’ question that he almost drops the bottle that Zayn is handing him. “What? No, why would I lie?”

“Because sometimes lies are necessary.” Louis shrugs. “But sometimes telling the truth is, and now is one of those times. If you’re going to come look for me, in my city, and demand a personal audience, then you need to be completely honest with me. Understand?”

“Of course,” Harry answers quietly. “I- of course. I promise.”

On the other side of the room, Zayn gives a derisive snort that Louis understands like it’s a flashing neon sign. _Never make a promise you can’t keep._

Louis just pretends like he hasn’t heard a thing. “That’s good, Harry. So out with it, then. Why did you leave, and why are you here?”

You can tell that Harry’s been rehearsing this part in his head, because he sits up a little straighter and looks at Louis squarely, all faux confidence and firmness. “I just can’t be a part of that crew anymore. They- they weren’t treating me fairly.”

“Were they breaking the Code?”

“Well- no. Not technically.”

“You’re going to help me out here, kid. I can’t pull your teeth for you all night,” Louis says after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Spit it out, what happened?”

The poor kid looks like he would rather Louis _did_ pull his teeth. “They used me,” he confesses quietly. “I was their scapegoat. That was my job in the crew, because I’m- well, I’m not really very good at being a thief. They would rat me out every time someone in the crew was being looked at by the police, even when it wasn’t me. They said it was my job to always be the fall guy.”

It isn’t that hard to believe, if Louis is being honest with himself. Here’s a kid who picks out thieves in crowds and asks to talk to their king, who can’t enter a room without waking up the whole den, and who makes promises about being honest that he can’t possibly intend to keep. Louis has known more crooks than honest people in his twenty-two years, and crooks like that are usually the ones behind bars.

“I’m sure you’re not that bad,” he lies politely. “But you were okay with this?”

Harry shrugs a little, eyes on the carpet. “I mean, it makes sense. I don’t really do well in prison, but they’re right that it’s all I’m good for. Whenever I try to do a job, I usually mess it up, so. I get that it’s what’s best for the crew. I don’t mind it that much.”

The fact that he’s okay with going to jail because it’s for the greater good is a prime example of why he probably shouldn’t be the one they sent to jail. This kid is as soft as they come. There’s always that one guy on the cell block that radiates vibes of ‘come and get me, I throw a lousy punch,’ and he never manages to come out unscathed. Louis has only known him for a grand total of five minutes, and already he can tell that Harry is that one guy.

“And they still make you go? Even though you aren’t made for lockup?” Louis says curiously.

“It’s what I’m good for,” Harry simply replies. “But, um. That’s not exactly why I left.”

Being made to do time for other people’s mistakes, especially when you look like prey, seems like a good enough reason to leave as it was. It was dancing on the line of what was against the code and what wasn’t, and Louis can feel himself getting a little hot under the collar just thinking about it. “What the bloody hell made you leave, then?”

“They keep having a go at me. Like, beating me up. It isn’t serious,” Harry adds when he sees the astonishment on Louis and Zayn’s faces. “They don’t _mean_ it, they just- they’re just teasing. But they sort of gang up on me sometimes. They say they’re trying to toughen me up so that I won’t get my arse kicked in jail.”

“That’s completely against the Code!” Louis protests, out of the chair and on his feet in an instant like he’s going to sprint over to Cheshire right then to have words with their so-called king. “Archie let that go on? That’s fucking ridiculous, that’s- you don’t lay hands on someone in your crew, ever,” he finishes hotly.

Zayn hums in agreement. “You were right to leave.”

Harry looks more than a little relieved as his eyes bounce back and forth between the two men. “Does that mean I can join your crew, then?”

Which is definitely _not_ what Louis is expecting. “After all that, you seriously want to be a part of a crew?” he asks incredulously. “They kept you in jail, beat you up in the name of helping you, ruined your reputation- and now you want back in?”

“But where it’s _different._ I’ve heard all about you, and people say you’re fair and honest and- I don’t know,” Harry says sheepishly. “I thought maybe it would be better in London than it was back home.”

There is hesitation all over Zayn’s face and deep into every inch of Louis’ mind. If he’s as bad as he says he is- and Harry looks like he might be- then he could be a liability to Louis’ crew. They have enough loose cannons around without adding a new guy that no one trusts and who may or may not be carrying the baggage of a Code-breaking crew with him.

“I- I don’t know,” Louis falters.

“I don’t want much, just someplace safe,” Harry rushes to add. “I’ve been in and out of jail since I was thirteen and I got put in juvie for petty theft. I’m the best fall guy you’ll ever have, I’m like always suspect number one-”

“Wait, wait, wait. Back up.” Louis put his hands up to stop the torrent of words, and Harry is instantly silent. “You mean to tell me that you came here to ask me to be in my crew so that you can be our scapegoat?” A timid nod that Louis fails to understand. “How the hell is that any better than where you were?”

Harry looks up at him with very honest eyes, something Louis hasn’t seen in longer than he cares to remember. “I don’t know for sure,” he says quietly, “but you just seem like you might be a king that could keep me safe.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to let your crew beat you up,” Louis finds himself saying after a long, tense pause. “That’s just bloody ridiculous.”

Zayn pulls a face and sighs from across the room, but Harry is all sparkling eyes and grins. “Thank you so much,” he says breathily, like he might be on the verge of tears.

“But you’re not going to be a scapegoat,” Louis hurries to clarify, though it only serves to make Zayn sigh again. “We’re going to make a proper thief out of you yet.”

Both faces in the room looked at him with mixed disbelief and distaste. “Uhm. Are you sure you want to do that?” Harry says hesitantly. “I’m not kidding when I say that I’m pretty much only good for being sent to jail.”

“Yeah, Your Majesty, are you sure?” echoes Zayn with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

“Can it, both of you. I know what I’m doing here.” His words are harsh, but Louis’ tone is all mildness. “I’m going to teach you myself, Harry. You’re going to be my next protégé. _Not a single word,_ Zayn. I told you, I know what I’m doing.”

No one is convinced, but Louis isn’t backing down, either. He keeps a straight face the entire time that it takes him to escort Harry down the stairs and into the common area- which is an exceptionally long time, considering that he seems to do everything at molasses pace. Although the fact that he’s looking at the maze of tents with something in between trepidation and terror probably doesn’t help either.

“I promise you, no one’s going to mess with you here,” Louis says quietly, because it’s a promise he can keep. “Zayn is around 24/7, and my kids know better than to break the Code. If anyone gives you a problem, you come to me or Zayn immediately. Got it?”

“Your kids?”

 _Oops. Didn’t quite mean to let that one slip._ “We’re more like a family than co-workers, to be fair,” answers Louis casually. “Which is also why no one is going to bother you. We take care of our own, period.” Harry seems a little too surprised by that for comfort, but Louis doesn’t bring it up. Let the kid’s ghosts sort themselves out.

“Listen up, everyone. Hey! _Hey!”_ The den falls silent when Louis raises his voice, heads popping out from inside tents and behind furniture to look dutifully at their king. “Good morning,” he continues, milder. “Got someone new for you all to meet today. This is Styles, and he’s going to be joining our crew. Styles, say hello to your new family.”

There’s confusion in Harry’s eyes at this sudden nickname, but there’s more trust than doubt. “Hello,” he says mildly, waving at the crowd. Louis supresses a sigh- honestly, what was the point in trying to make him sound edgier and cooler if he was going to act like a puppy?

“That’s all, carry on,” Louis instructs the others before Harry can do any more damage.

The crowd parts as they pass through, giving them a wide berth. No one wants The Rouge tripping over them, after all. “Make them work to know your name, Harry,” Louis murmurs as they walked, already on lesson number one. “You’re a commodity.”

Harry might whisper something like, “hardly,” but it’s quiet enough for Louis to let slide.

They get to Niall’s tent not too much longer after that. It’s easy to pick out, what with its close proximity to the cable socket, the bright orange extension cord running inside, and the electronic glow casting silhouettes on the fabric sides. The giant Irish flag tacked to the side was another effective clue. “Oi! Niall!”

A smile, as always, greets them when the tent is unzipped ever-so-slightly. “Rogue! Hey. I have three of those records unsealed and one is almost there.”

“Oh, good, good. But uh, that’s not why I’m here.”

“What? Oh, the DVLA job, then? Yeah I got into their database last night. I was going to make you that master access password you wanted, but I didn’t know if you wanted it to be something specific, or what.”

“You are literally worth your weight in gold,” Louis says with a smirk. “But that’s not it, either. Do you have room in your tent for an overnight guest?”

Niall flushes from his hairline all the way down to his collarbones. “I don’t invite Liam in, sir, I swear. The only time he’s ever been in the den is when he’s on raids, that’s it.”

“Well that’s good to know,” snorts Louis, “but that isn’t why I was asking. Can you put Ha- er, Styles- up for a night until we can get him his own tent?”

Maybe it’s the embarrassment speaking, but Niall is nodding at once. “Of course, yeah. No problem. Let me just clear some space-” And then he was gone, disappeared back inside the tent, clunking and shuffling and making his silhouette go wild.

“Niall’s literally one of the nicest lads you’ll ever meet, you’ll like him,” Louis tells Harry in an undertone. “He’s our tech whiz. He also likes boys. Is that a problem?”

He may or may not say it like that for the shock factor, so he can watch Harry’s naive little eyes go wide. Hopefully not, though, because the complete calm would be a disappointment. “Not at all. Why would it be?”

 _Because you wouldn’t be the first guy to go to jail and come back with a problem with that._ “Just curious,” Louis simply replies. “I’ll check in with you later, Styles. Thanks Niall,” he calls into the tent.

“No problem, sir!”

He can feel Harry’s questions following him as he walks away, but Louis has bigger problems. Mainly the man waiting with a scowl back in the office. “Your Majesty, I don’t mean to speak out of turn-”

“So you’re about to speak out of turn, I take it?”

“-but what are you thinking, taking that kid in?”

“What I was thinking- and what I would have explained to you if you’d hopped off my dick long enough to let me talk,” Louis adds with a pointed look that at least makes Zayn seem embarrassed, “is that someone has to do something. What happened to him isn’t right.”

“So it’s our job to fix it?” Zayn squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, takes a deep breath, and tries again. “Look, the guy comes from shit. I get that. But we don’t need that shit in our crew.”

“Trust me, yeah? I know what I’m doing. And I wouldn’t be doing it if I thought anyone in our crew would get hurt by it.”

That, at least, Zayn can trust. He isn’t exactly convinced that this Harry Styles isn’t a disaster waiting to happen, but Rogue is the smartest thief he knows. He takes care of his own. Always.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will I ever stop writing about Louis having a "must save the poor puppy" complex? nah probably not look how glorious it is
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	3. Chapter 3

Niall Horan generally tries not to leave much of an impact on the world around him- after all, in this business, the fewer times your name comes up, the better. Try as he might, however, there are still three things that he’s undeniably famous for: his hacking prowess, his overwhelming Irish patriotism, and his unfailingly friendly disposition.

He’s the type of guy who has a smile for everyone, and this new kid, Styles, is no exception. He seems nice enough- maybe too nice, for a thief. They’re a group of cheats and liars and sneaks, but this guy seems like he might hesitate to take candy from a free candy dish, let alone rob someone of their hard-earned worldly possessions.

But if there’s one thing a thief’s life has taught Niall about trusting people, it’s to  _ trust but verify. _

He calls Liam two nights later from the passenger seat of the empty van, his feet propped upon the dash and laptop on his knees, lazily typing in code for his new program. The ringing tone coming through his little speaker sounds loud in the quiet space around him.

“Niall! Babe. How are you?”

“Not bad, can’t complain,” Niall replies coyly, specifically leaving out the ‘I’m not your babe’ that he would have thrown in normally. “What are you up to? Out solving crimes and saving the world?”

“Nearly. My shift starts in ten minutes, I’m just hanging in the cruiser until then.”

“I see. About to go to work… does that make it a good time or a bad time to ask for a favor?”

He can practically hear Liam grinning through the phone. “I’ve been waiting to do you a favor for two months now. Work can wait- your place or mine?”

“Don’t get too excited, Payno, not that kind of favor.” Niall rolls his eyes but lets himself start grinning, too. “It’s more of a ‘cop’ favor than an ‘attractive man’ favor.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

_ I think you’re ridiculously fit and Rogue is right about me not teasing you much longer. _ “You’re alright.”

“I’ll take it. Okay, shoot. What can I do for you, handsome?”

“I need you to run a name for me in your little database.”

“You mean you haven’t hacked into it already?” Liam laughs with only slight sarcasm. “Niall, you must be slipping.”

“Yeah, well, I thought it would be rude to hack your place of work.” Good thing he’s alone and the van is dark, because Niall’s face is getting hot in what’s probably a deep red flush.

“Aww, that’s adorable!”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up or I’ll deactivate your bank accounts.”

“Okay, alright, fine. Duly noted. What’s the name, babe?”

Niall winces. “All I have is Styles. Last name, maybe? Or a street name. Sounded like Rogue started to say something with an H. Could be his first name, so maybe try H. Styles?”

“You have a possible initial and a possible last name?” Liam hesitates, clearly torn between his eagerness to impress Niall and the impossible nature of the task. “London is a big city. I’m not sure how much I can do for you-”

“Oh, he’s not from London.”

“Okay, where’s he from?”

“Er… England. But not from London.”

“You’ve just made it even worse,” Liam sighs. “You can’t get a  _ little _ more specific?”

“I’m not good with the accents here, Liam, I only just moved!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll- well, I’ll see what I can find. Okay? Text me if you can give me anything else. Or if you need any other… favors.”

“We’ll see,” smirks Niall.

“So… what are you up to?” continues Liam after a pause, clearly unwilling to let the conversation end.

Niall looks around him for an answer that isn’t a lie. “Just, er, hanging out. Fiddling with my laptop. You know, the usual.”  _ Erasing data off of security camera recorders for the last twenty minutes. _

“Are you ever  _ not _ playing with your laptop?”

“I do play with other things, too, you’ll be glad to kn- oh, shit!” Niall’s flirt is rudely interrupted by the angry trill of an alarm from the building across the parking lot. “Goddamn mechanical alarms-”

“Niall, why does it sound like a security system going off?”

“Uhh, nothing. That’s my- it’s the telly. It’s a sound on the telly.”

“Are you sure it has nothing to do with the call I just got to the electronics depot downtown?”

Five shadowy figures start sprinting across the lot towards the van, arms loaded with laptops and phones. “What are you implying? Liam, I’m hurt.”

“Just get out of there, you dork. We’ll be there in two minutes and we haven’t discussed whether you like handcuffs yet.”

Some people might find it odd to discover Niall alone in the van, laughing at seemingly nothing from deep in his belly. His crewmates just floor it.

…………………

The sun is rising when Louis raps his knuckles on the thin plastic of Niall’s tent. “Styles? Don’t go to bed quite yet.”

Dimples -seriously? what is this kid? -greet Louis when the zipper goes down and Harry’s smiling face is revealed. “Rogue! Your Majesty. Hi.”

“Hey,” Louis replies, smirking at the double title. “You weren’t asleep already, were you?”

“No, of course not. Why would I be?”

“Oh god. You’re not diurnal, are you?”

“Even a bad thief can’t do much if they sleep all night,” Harry replies, dimples once more. “I just don’t sleep very much at all. I’m usually up until two or three.”

Louis frowns; sunset is around five this time of year, which means everyone is up by six at the latest. “I’m not sure that’s healthy,” he says, just so it’s on the record. “Come on. We have work to do.”

The boy is eager as ever climbing out of the tent, even if his foot gets caught in the opening and he topples over, faceplanting comically and almost taking down both the tent and Louis in the process. “I’m okay, I’m okay. But, Rogue- are you  _ sure _ you want me doing something for you? I’ll probably just mess it up,” he finishes as a murmur.

“Don’t question me,” Louis instructs lightly. How many times has he been forced to say that these last two days? “But in any case, I’m not going to just throw you out there and leave you on your own. We’re going to see what you’ve got first.”

“What I’ve- what?”

“What you’ve got. Your skills. Your talents.”

“Oh. I’m not sure I have any,” Harry mumbles nervously.

“Nonsense, Styles!  _ Everyone _ has a talent, a little niche that they fit into. It’s just a matter of finding it. Trust me, I’m sure of it,” he continues when Harry seems unconvinced. “I’ve seen a lot of thieves in my time, and everyone has a talent.”

Harry seems so convinced that he’s the exception to the rule that Louis almost second-guesses himself. Almost. But the sun is rising and everything is beautiful and the world is ripe for their taking, and that makes it easy to believe that  _ anyone _ can rob a man of his hard-earned money if he only tries.

“Do you know what the fabulous thing about sunrise is, Styles?” he asks as they walk through the brisk February streets. “Other than the fact that restaurants are selling the best meal of the day, I mean.”

“Uhm. It’s pretty?” It’s endearing, the innocence with which he says it. A little weak, but endearing.

“Well, sort of. But I mostly think it’s beautiful how easy it is to be a thief in the morning light,” muses Louis. “People are afraid of the nighttime. They expect bad things to happen then, and they look forward to the morning because light means safety. No one expects to get taken advantage of just when they’ve found relief from the night.”

Harry muses over this very intently for a moment, then nods. “I never thought of it like that. Why don’t thieves sleep at night and use the daytime to do all the stealing when people least expect it?”

“There’s a reason why people are afraid of the night. When it’s dark and quiet it’s easier to move around unnoticed. It’s the stuff where you’re going to get noticed anyways where the morning light is your best opportunity. For example,” Louis continues as they turn onto a larger street where a few early birds can be seen going about their business, “picking pockets.”

“Oh no,” Harry immediately says. “Oh god. That’s my worst thing. I can’t pick pockets to save my life.”

“You can do just about anything if your life depends on it- trust me, I speak from experience. But my point is, no one is suspicious at sunrise. So it’s easier. Why don’t you try it out?”

Louis’ expertise doesn’t seem to comfort Harry at all. He still looks like he’s been told to cut off his leg with a butter knife, but at least he’s surveying the scene for a mark. “Who should I-”

“That guy,” Louis immediately replies. The man he gestures to is maybe in his late twenties, tall and thin with dark hair and sharp eyes. He’s wrapped in a high-end coat and examining magazine covers at a newsstand run by a grandmotherly woman.

“If you wind up having to run,” Louis continues calmly, “meet me round the corner at the fountain. You know the one I’m talking about? There’s a good lad. Alright then, off you go!”

Few people that meet Louis would describe him as a mean man, so he doesn’t laugh as he watches Harry attempt to look casual on his way across the street. It isn’t that funny, anyways- he’s somehow managing to look  _ more  _ suspicious than he did before. What few eyes are on the street find Harry and stare as he walks, snail-paced and eyes on the pavement, directly towards the man.

The fatal flaw in Harry’s execution of the tried and true “bumping into a stranger” trick is that he crashes shoulders with him, apologizes, and  _ then  _ tries to reach into his pocket. You’re supposed to go for the wallet as you bump- that way the sensation of a hand in your pocket is overshadowed by the feel of someone jolting you. Then you apologize so they focus on your words instead of your hands, make your exit, and voila!

But when you try to take someone’s wallet at the same time you apologize to them, you’re more likely to find yourself sprinting down the quiet morning streets with an angry man hot on your tail.

Louis takes a shortcut through a few gardens and car parks and is sitting on the edge of the fountain a solid thirty seconds before Harry comes sprinting into view with his pursuer close behind. A few feet into the courtyard, the panicked green eyes abruptly disappear as Harry is tackled, wrestled to the ground, and straddled. “You little wanker!” the man yells, looking down at Harry. “You tried to steal my wallet!”

“I didn’t- I’m not- I was just-”

Excuses don’t seem to cut it. The man curls his fingers into a fist, pulls his arm back, and-

“Oi, knock it off, Nick!” Louis calls, ever calm.

Nick Grimshaw’s head snaps up at the sound of his king’s voice. “Rogue?” he says, confused. “This one was picking my pocket-”

“I know, I told him to. I’m training him. Come on, let him up before he faints. Were you really going to slug him?” Louis walks over to Harry as soon as Nick is off of him, offering his hand to help the frightened boy up.

“Of course I was, he was trying to steal my hard-earned money from me.”

“You’re a thief, Nick. He was trying to steal  _ other  _ people’s hard-earned money from you.”

“Alright, yeah, fair enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Harry finally says as the banter draws on. “Rogue, you  _ know  _ this guy?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, this is Nick Grimshaw. Grimmy. He’s in our crew. What, you didn’t think I would send you over to pick some stranger’s pocket, did you?” Louis laughs when Harry continues to look confused. “It may be sunrise, but you still might run into someone who’ll try to skin you if you cross them. I wouldn’t let you take that chance without knowing you might be able to get away.”

“Happy to be a victim of education,” Nick says drily. “Why me? Why my poor wallet?”

“Because you’re about to rip off a woman that could be your nan.”

At least Nick has the decency to look ashamed. “She does small cash exchanges and comes in every day with a whole lockbox of small bills to make change. Easy job.”

“Yeah, and she probably needs all of that money to pay her bills. Look at her, man, she’s in rags. Have some respect.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Nick mumbles, head hung a little.

“Good man. Now, Styles, what did you do wrong?”

Harry is a deer in the headlights. “Um- wasn’t fast enough?”

“You don’t need to be fast if you pick the pocket correctly. What went wrong there, any ideas? No? Alright, Nick, tell him.”

Nick turns to Harry and sticks out his hand. “I’m Nick, by the way. Sorry for almost punching you. I thought you looked familiar. And um- you should have gone for my pocket while you bumped me, not after.” He pauses a second and looks to Louis. “He’s got kinda big hands to be doing pockets, isn’t he?”

He has a valid point- of course he did. Nick is the oldest in the crew and one of the best. Louis grins and jerks his chin to send him off. “Go buy something from that poor woman. And go to bed! I need you rested for tonight’s job over on 86th.”

As soon as Louis commands it Nick is gone, leaving Louis and Harry by themselves in the little courtyard. “Don’t sweat it,” Louis says before Harry could speak at all. “A good pickpocket is made, not born. We’ll work on it.”

“Thank you, Rogue,” Harry replies sheepishly.

“While we’re here, let’s move on to the next bit. Don’t look so scared, this one’s easy, yeah?” He reaches out and takes Harry by the shoulders, turning him to face one of the buildings lining the courtyard. “Look at that building and tell me why I should or shouldn’t rob it. Not right now, just in general.”

Harry is taking this task very seriously, his brow furrowed in concentration as he examines the building in question. “Well, there’s a security camera,” he begins, “but the wires sticking out of the back aren’t connected to anything, so it’s a decoy. They want to look secure but they aren’t. So they probably don’t have a security system at all. No bars on the windows, and no fence to get past. I’d say… I’d say do it.”

“That was pretty good,” Louis replies, unable to keep some of the surprise out of his voice. “I didn’t expect you to notice the wires. But think about the location. Neighbors on two sides, a street to the front, and a courtyard in the back. Completely exposed.”

“Oh… I didn’t think about that.” Harry blushes a little- is it from the complements or the way he was still wrong?

Louis starts off across the courtyard at a casual pace, beckoning to Harry over his shoulder. “Walk with me, Styles. How good are you with people?”

“Um. I think I’m pretty good. I’m like really nice, I think. And I like to help people.”

_ So you’re the opposite of a thief, then, _ thinks Louis with a roll of his eyes. “Good liar?”

“No sir. I’m a very, very bad liar.”

_ I’ve noticed. _ “Ever tried to pull a con before?”

“Like… trying to pull off a scam to get money? By lying straight to people’s faces?” Harry blinks over at Louis. “But that’s like the hardest thing a thief can do.”

“It is.”

“I heard you’re the best there’s ever been at pulling cons, though.”

“I am,” Louis grins. “You don’t get to be king by being mediocre, eh? But I’m sure you could pull off a con. You’ve got an innocent face, people might believe you.”

“I’m so,  _ so _ bad at lying, though,” Harry protests. “I get too nervous and I feel like they can see right through me and I just… I’m just no good.”

“Just don’t let yourself get psyched out, that’s all,” Louis soothes. “Look, we’re gonna do one right now, and you’re not gonna overthink it, and you’re going to be fine. Okay?”

Harry doesn’t look ‘fine’ or ‘okay.’ He nods anyways.

“Good. Alright, see that Italian man unloading that truck? You’re going to go up to him and convince him that you’ve been mugged around the corner and need to use his phone to call the police. While you distract him, I’m going to grab some of the bread out of the back of the truck. Easy peasy.”

“What if he sees you?”

“Then we run,” Louis shrugs. “In opposite directions. He can’t chase us both. Now go on, Harry, let’s steal some brekkie.”

It’s like watching a train wreck twice and getting sick with deja vu. Harry actually puts on a fake limp as he walks over to the Italian man and touches his elbow timidly to get his attention. He speaks too quietly for Louis to hear, no matter how hard he strains. They’re up by the front of the truck, at least, so Louis climbs gingerly up into the back and grabs an armful of loaves-

-and then leaps out onto the pavement as the street is split with a loud, angry, “Hey!”

Harry is standing, wide-eyed and terrified, watching the man hurry towards Louis and his bread. “Um, Rogue? This guy’s with you, right? You’re gonna call him off?”

“Not this time.  _ Run!” _

He’s halfway down the block before Louis realizes that Harry is following him instead of running the opposite way. “Thank god you can at least run fast,” he huffs to his apprentice, taking a sharp right and trying to force his legs to move faster. “And thank god that man is twice our age!”

“Why don’t you drop the bread? You’d run faster-”

“Because I don’t exercise for no reward. Come on, this way!

They race through the streets of London, through back ways and shortcuts long after the man is left in their dust. The burn in Louis’ legs is setting in, a pleasant ache that keeps him going until they’re just around the corner from where they’d started out at sunrise. “In here,” he tells Harry at last, gesturing up the steps to a plain little building.

The room they find themselves in is an industrial kitchen filled with the aromas of scrambled eggs and grits. A few elderly women tend to the dishes, one of whom- a warm-eyed, grey-haired woman all of five feet tall- comes right over to Louis when they enter.

“Oh, Louis, my dear heart, it’s so good to see you,” she exclaims, reaching up to grab his face between her flour-coated hands. “It’s been ages since you’ve dropped in. Not that we haven’t noticed the gifts, of course.”

Louis smiles fondly and kisses her cheek, staying still while the woman wipes the flour from his face with the hem of her apron. “I’m sorry, Alice, I’ve been terribly busy lately. You know I’d pop in more if I could.”

“I know, dear, I know. Are those-?”

“For you, yes,” Louis nods, handing over the armful of bread. “Styles and I went to great length to obtain these for you. All very legally, of course.”

“That’s the truth and I’m the Queen of England. Come on in, lads, let me serve you up some breakfast-”

“Oh, Alice, we couldn’t. You didn’t make this lovely breakfast for miscreants like us,” flirts Louis. His eyes are unbelievably soft. “Besides, you know it’s our bedtime.”

“Well. I wouldn’t want that handsome thing you’ve usually got following you around to scold you for being late. At least take some with you, I’ll put it in a bag-”

“No can do, my love, we’ve got to be off. But we’ll stop by soon, yeah? Come along, Styles,” he says, and with one more kiss to the protesting Alice, Louis grabs Harry’s hand and drags him back out the doors. He speaks in an undertone as they make their way down the steps and Louis releases Harry’s hand. “Sorry to have to make such a quick exit, but if you don’t insist she’ll keep you around all day and find excuses to stuff you full of food. Wonderful woman, Alice is.”

“Who is she?” Harry asks quietly. “Where was that?”

“That was Alice, and she runs that place. It’s a homeless shelter.”

He says it as casually as could be, but Harry still turns and stares at Louis like he has seven heads. “You stole bread to give it to a homeless shelter, and you’re on a first-name basis with the woman who runs it?”

“I’m the King of the Thieves, Styles, not the devil. I have more than enough to feed me and my crew. Why wouldn’t I give to the less fortunate? Look,” Louis continues, softer, “I just try to give back. I take so much from this city. It can’t hurt to give a little back. I’m just… redistributing the wealth.”

“Like Robin Hood?”

“Yeah, well. The important thing here is that those eggs looked delicious and now I’m hungry. Do you fancy some breakfast?”

It does not, apparently, matter whether Harry wants breakfast. Nor does it matter that he isn’t done asking about this intriguing side of The Rogue. All that matters is that the King of the Thieves wants brekkie and he has a way about him that lets everyone know he gets what he wants. He’s off down the street without another word, and Harry is pulled along in his wake like a helpless but willing shadow.

They wind up at a little cafe with a few, rusty outside tables and only one waiter. Louis gestures for Harry to sit -Harry immediately sits- and waves the aproned man over. “Morning. I’ll have a waffle, a stack of pancakes, and a tea.”

The waiter blinks at him, then at the menus still in his hands, then at Harry. “Sir?”

“Um. Same. Please,” Harry replies on instinct. He’s too distracted to care about what kind of food he’s going to be brought, because Louis is leaning towards him with an intent expression. “Is, um, is everything okay, Rogue?”

“I’m just trying to think what I’m going to do with you,” Louis replies honestly. “There’s a solution, I know it.”

Harry is crestfallen, though he tries very hard not to be. “I’m sorry. I know I’m awful.”

“Well. Not  _ awful.” _

“Yes, awful. All three of those tests would have resulted in me getting locked up again.” Harry sighs and plucked  napkin from the dispenser on the table so he could start tearing it into confetti-sized pieces. “Probably best. I told you I should just be your scapegoat.”

“Styles, don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true,” continues Harry determinedly, though his voice trembles a little. “You’ve seen me try to be a thief and I’m terrible at it. Please, I don’t want to slow you down. Just- just let me be your scapegoat. Please?”

The food comes before Louis can reply, so he takes the time to butter a few pancakes while he thinks about what to say. Harry just watches him, silent and nervous. At last Louis just quietly tells him, “That’s not going to work, Styles.”

“Why not? Like I said, they always believe I did it because my record is so long-”

“That’s exactly why it  _ won’t _ work, though,” Louis interrupts. “Eventually you’re going to start getting harsher penalties even for the petty crimes because you’ve been charged with so much. What are you gonna do when you start spending months or years at a time in jail?”

Harry doesn’t answer.

“You’re no good to this crew if you’re in prison all the time,” Louis continues, unperturbed. “That’s why I want to train you and make you better. Even a thief that’s learning is better than a thief behind bars. Right?” Still no answer. “Styles. Use your mouth. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes, sir. Rogue. Sir. I just-” He breaks off, playing with his silverware and still refusing to look Louis in the eye. “Are you sure it’s not too late?”

He looks so scared and naive that Louis can suddenly think of another reason to keep Harry out of prison-  _ innocence like that is a breath of fresh air for a man who’s a King of Thieves. _ He doesn’t say that out loud, of course.

“A good thief is made, not born,” he says instead, quiet and gentle. “You think I walked out my front door one day and conned the Prime Minister’s personal assistant out of his Escalade? Of course not. Took me years before I was able to do that.”

“Wait, you’re saying that you stole a car from the Prime Minister’s personal assistant?”

“No. Well, yes, I did do that. Lovely car, rides beautifully. But that’s not the point.” Louis reaches up and gives Harry’s cheek a few little taps until he gets the message and looks up. He takes the younger boy’s chin in his hand to hold his gaze, just to be sure that no words got lost between mouth and ear. “The point is that no one’s gonna tell me that I can’t make a damn good thief outta you, not even you. I’m going to train you, and I’m going to find your niche, and you’re gonna be great. Understand?”

Wide, green eyes blink and curls bob ever so slightly. “Good,” Louis says as he releases Harry’s chin. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now, eat your breakfast so I can go home and get in bed. I’m too old to be up this late.”

…………………

They start that very next night. The crew is being run on autopilot, everyone carrying out their assignments with minimal direction and reporting back to Zayn as needed. Every so often Zayn will appear to give some status update or ask for Louis’ approval, but they always felt like thin excuses. Zayn knows how to run this crew. He just wants to see what the king is doing hiding away in the office with the new boy.

“No, no, look at me, Styles. If you bite your lip while you lie to me one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

“I’m sorry, Rogue, I can’t help it,” Harry miserably replies. “I keep thinking too hard on the words and I forget what you said about body language…”

“Well it doesn’t matter how smooth your words are if you’ve got a tell with a flashing neon sign informing everyone that you’re a con artist,” Louis retorts, an hour’s fruitless work making his frustration palpable. “Can we just- let’s move on, yeah? Do something else for a bit.”

Harry’s face is flushed with embarrassment as he nods. “Um, okay. Like what?”

“Pickpocketing. Come on, come stand in front of me. I’m not going to bite, I promise, but you can’t pick my pocket from across the room.” It takes a moment of hesitant shuffling before Harry is across from him, but eventually he’s two feet in front of Louis looking very, very unsure.

“I don’t know how you expect me to be able to pick your pocket,” Harry mumbles. “You’re too good. I wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Well that’s true enough, but that’s not what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna demonstrate how to pick a pocket by picking yours.” Louis takes his left hand and rubs it brusquely on Harry’s upper arm with a small smile. “Don’t be nervous, okay?” 

“But how is that going to teach me how to do it?”

“By showing you how well it can be done. For example- where’s your wallet?”

“In my left front pocket.”

Louis gives a wicked grin. “Are you sure about that?”

For a second Harry doesn’t get it, and then his eyes go wide as he pats his pockets to find that his wallet is already gone, hidden in Louis’ right palm. “H- how did you- when did you-?”

“When you were too busy looking at my hand on your shoulder,” replies Louis. “That’s the key. You have to do something that’s so interesting and invasive that your target can’t help but pay attention to it. If they’re getting bumped into or looking at your hand on their shoulder, they’re not paying any mind to a little tickle near their wallet.”

“That’s amazing,” Harry breathes. “So how do you know what distraction to use?”

Louis tosses the wallet back to Harry for him to replace, shrugging with nonchalance. “Some work in every situation, like the bump. The rest of the time it’s about knowing your target. You have to watch them,” he explains, circling Harry slowly. “You have to make note of what they’re doing and what they’re saying and what they’re wanting.”

“What they’re- wanting?”

“People pay attention to what they  _ choose _ to. Give them what they want and they can’t help but be distracted by it.”

“But how do you know what they want?”

“I’m not sure I can teach you that,” Louis murmurs, coming up behind Harry to whisper so close that his lips caress the soft skin of Harry’s ear. “Sometimes, it’s all about…  _ instinct.” _

That’s exactly how Zayn found them the next time he came to snoop, Harry with red face and shallow breath as Louis stood too close behind him with soft whispers and devilish eyes. Zayn took in the scene before him and coughed slightly, like that would clear the tension in the room. It didn’t.

“Something you need, Zayn?” Louis asks, making no move to step away from his protégé.

“Wanted to see if it’s okay for us to run that charity gag again. Samson’s getting restless and he’s the absolute best at that con.”

“Approved.”

Louis’ answer is so short that Zayn almost leaves it at that, but in the end he can’t help himself. Smirking that trademark Malik smirk, he adds, “Oh, and Your Majesty? Why do you have two wallets in your back pocket?”

The roar of Louis’ laughter as he tosses Harry’s back to him once more makes his young victim stare incredulously, even when he’s patted soothingly on the head. Harry blushes ever harder. Louis could get used to a game like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case anyone's curious, the reason why Louis keeps saying "kids" and why Nick is the oldest in the group is that most of the thieves are probably between 15 and 30. After that, most thieves are usually retired and/or in jail. Thieving is a young man (or woman, or non-binary)'s game!
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the piece so far :)
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	4. Chapter 4

It takes two days for Niall to trick Styles into revealing his first name -Harry, apparently- and another for Liam to get a quiet enough moment at the station to run it for him. The sun is high in the sky when the text from Liam comes in, and normally Niall sleeps through texts undisturbed. Not when it’s Liam’s ringtone, though. He always wakes up for Liam’s texts.

 **_(Liam, 12:32 PM)_ ** _hey babe u awake  
 **(Liam, 12:32 PM)** probably not sorry_

 **_(Niall, 12:33 PM)_ ** _am now!_

 **_(Liam, 12:34 PM)_ ** _sorryyyyy you can go back to sleep if u want_

 **_(Niall, 12:35 PM)_ ** _Nah babe you’re alright. need something ?_

**_(Liam, 12:36 PM)_ ** _:)_   
_**(Liam, 12:36 PM)** babe?_   
_**(Liam, 12:36 PM)** you called me babeeeee!_

**_(Niall, 12:38 PM)_ ** _oh my god I’m going back to sleep_

**_(Liam, 12:39 PM)_ ** _wait! no! wanted to talk to you_   
_**(Liam, 12:40 PM)** I go on shift at five so I can’t later_   
_**(Liam, 12:41 PM)** it’s important_

**_(Niall, 12:41 PM)_ ** _where are u?_

 **_(Liam, 12:42 PM)_ ** _outside in the cruiser_

 **_(Niall, 12:43 PM)_ ** _be there in five minutes_

He’s slipping into Liam’s front seat in under three. “You realize it’s against every one of my instincts to voluntarily get into a cop car, right?”

“I promise not to drive away with you in it unless you ask me to,” Liam replies, leaning in for a kiss. He only gets Niall’s cheek, but it’s enough. “Thanks for coming.”

“Well. You said it was important, of course I came. Are you sure this thing isn’t recording us or anything?”

“The camera faces out and you have to push the button to talk into the radio. You’re safe. I wouldn’t have told you to get in if it wasn’t.”

That much Niall believes. “So what’s up?” he asks, instinctively reaching for the computer console on the dash. “Get a promotion? Save a kitten? Decided to become an Irish national?”

“I think it’s firemen that are supposed to save kittens- what are you doing to my laptop?”

“Reconfiguring your hard drive so it’s faster,” replies Niall as his fingers dance over the keys. “I don’t want you getting shot because your system sucks.”

“Oh,” Liam simply says, looking pleased.

“Don’t read too much into that. I just prefer you alive, is all.”

“Right. Well, me too. With you. I prefer you alive, too. Which is sort of what I want to talk to you about.” Liam is stony and serious when Niall’s head pops up in surprise. “I looked into that name for you. Harry Styles.”

“Oh… and?”

“And he’s bad news. He’s got a rap sheet that’s a mile long-”

“So does everyone in that den. Hell, so did I, before I erased my name from every database in Ireland and fled the country.” Niall has a sick feeling growing in his gut. “We’re thieves, Li, we’re going to have records.”

“It’s not just theft. There’s bigger shit going on with Styles.”

“Wh- what?”

Liam pulls a folded up paper from one of the pockets on his uniform and solemnly hands it to Niall. “I found him in a Cheshire database. He’s been in juvie since early on with petty theft stuff, in and out of jail as an adult for the same shit. But- look at the end of the list.”

Niall does, his eyes scanning down the lines of print to skip over the dozens of misdemeanors and find the final entry. It spells out the last charge with nonchalance, but Niall gasps anyways. “Assault with a deadly weapon?”

“I requested the case file from an old friend, and he said this Styles guy bashed someone’s head in with a baseball bat for no reason. Spent a year in maximum security for it.” Liam reaches out to touch Niall’s shoulder, and Niall is too shocked even to shake it off with his usual coy smile. “I’m sorry. Is he- is he a friend of yours?”

“Not really,” Niall mumbles absentmindedly. “Rogue put him in my tent temporarily. I didn’t think he was the kind of guy who could do something like _this,_ though- are you sure?”

“He confessed. They gave him a plea deal so he would serve less time since it was his first violent offense. Niall, you need to tell Rogue to find this guy a new tent. Now.”

At last Niall can pry his eyes from the paper, if only to look at Liam in surprise. “You don’t _tell_ The Rogue to do anything. He’s my king, Liam.”

“Well you can tell him or I will. He beat the shit out of some guy with a bat, he’s dangerous. And worse- Niall, _listen_ to me. Worse is that it was random. It’s not like this guy had a beef with him or anything. He just decided to go out and put someone in the hospital one night. You expect me to be okay with you sleeping three feet from him?”

Liam’s chest is heaving unsteadily by the time he finishes, but he doesn’t back down as he looks at Niall. For a moment they just stare at each other, Liam strong and Niall surprised, until finally Niall relents. “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” he says quietly, watching Liam’s relieved exhale.

“Good. Thank you. Take that sheet with you to prove it to him if you want. Just- be careful, yeah?”

Niall doesn’t answer that, just leans across the center console and kisses Liam hard on the mouth. He’s never felt anyone respond so eagerly, the man parting his lips and sighing into Niall’s mouth like he’s been holding his breath specifically for this moment. Maybe he has been. It’s like this every time Niall’s ever kissed Liam, like every time is the first time and Liam is just as enamored.

 _Remind me why I’m still playing hard to get?_ Niall wants to ask as he pulls away, but he doesn’t. He’s enjoying the way Liam’s now-swollen lips are curling into a grin.

He doesn’t go back inside, even though he’s got hours left to fill with sleep before night falls and he has to go to work. The man Liam wants to protect him from is inside, and besides, Liam doesn’t mind driving in circles around the city if it means he gets to look over in the passenger seat and see Niall curled up, asleep. He really, really doesn’t mind.

Niall gets dropped off back at the den when Liam’s shift starts (“Baby, I’m sorry, but I can’t show up to crime scenes with an Irish fugitive in my car”), which means he’s on the floor outside the office door when the king rolls in around seven. He’s half asleep, enough to be caught unaware when Rogue makes his approach.

“Niall? You look like shit, kid, where’ve you been all day?”

“Huh? Oh, Rogue! Hey. I was- out. Can I talk to you?” Niall says all at once, struggling to his feet. “It’s important.”

Rogue raises one eyebrow and examines Niall as he unlocks the office door. “Sure. Now, or-?”

“Please.”

Zayn is inside, already up and doing paperwork. He must have been eavesdropping, because he rises upon their entrance and shuffles the papers into a stack. “I’ll be down the street at the other lot doing inventory. Unless you want me to stay?”

“No, you can go,” Louis dismisses, though really he had no clue. It wasn’t like Niall at all to come to him with some sort of vague, secretive request for a private conversation. Sometimes the crew would approach their leaders with personal problems, but it tends to be Zayn they confide in. For Niall to come to Louis… his curiosity continues to build until Zayn has shut the door behind him and they’re alone in the office.

“Alright, out with it,” Louis instructs. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

Niall shifts his weight from one foot to the other with an unsure smile. “I don’t know how to say it.”

“In English, preferably, without too many big words.”

“Right. Okay. Well, so I was talking to Liam the other night, and I happen to mention my new roommate to him, right? And he decided to look him up. Just out of curiosity. Without any prompting from me.” Louis rolls his eyes and doesn’t buy it a bit. Niall just keeps on talking. “And he pulled up Styles’ rap sheet, right? And- well, here it is.”

The crinkled little paper comes of of Niall’s pocket and he hands it to Louis with a solemn expression. It’s just like the criminal record of any other member of his crew, even if Harry’s is three times as long- just a series of misdemeanors detailing a life of petty crime and all the glamor that comes with it.

Except for the ominous “ASSAULT WITH A DEADLY WEAPON” at the very end of the row.

“There has to be a mistake,” he murmurs at once. “There’s no way Harry committed a felony assault. He’s- he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.”

“There isn’t a mistake, Liam got that from Cheshire. He says the case was about Harry smashing up some random guy’s head with a bat and confessing to it later.” There’s a stubborn set to Niall’s jaw that Louis can’t fail to notice. “What do you even know about this guy? You just let him in and trusted that he wasn’t a psycho?”

“Niall, he’s not psychotic. Even if this is true, it’s _one_ charge-”

“We’re thieves, not murderers!” Niall crows. “What’s to say he’s not going to snap and smash up one of us while we sleep?”

Louis’ eyes flash dangerously. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t let him stay here if I thought he was a danger to anyone here.”

“Well you’re the one who invited him here in the first place, and look how smart that decision turned out to be!”

“You watch your tone!” Louis snaps, rising from his seat to look Niall right in the eye. “I like you and you’re a valuable asset to this crew, but you’d better remember who you’re talking to when you address your king. Do I make myself clear?”

He could not have been clearer. The fight leaves Niall’s eyes and he nods sheepishly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Louis turns away and tries to suppress the uncomfortable flip-flop of his stomach. Two years and it still left a bad taste in his mouth when he had to pull rank. Especially on Niall, the sweet lad who of all his thieves felt like a little brother to him. But there was a fine line between informality and disrespect, and even the kindest king has to remind his subjects who’s in charge every once in a while. It’s just the natural order of things.

That discomfort isn’t even counting the anxious roiling coming from the paper still clutched in his hands. He may not have known Harry for very long, but the idea of him going out and brutalizing someone for no reason… it just doesn’t fit.

“I’ll talk to Harry,” he finally says. “I’m not jumping to any conclusions, and neither should you, but this warrants a serious conversation.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for bringing this to me, Niall. You did a good job,” Louis tacks on gently, hoping it wasn’t too late to soften the blow of authority. It might work, if the tiny smile that twitches into place on Niall’s downturned face is genuine. Niall quietly thanks him, excuses himself, and is gone.

Louis falls into his armchair the instant he’s alone. The words from the paper keep looming up at him, keep refusing to make sense, until Harry shows up for their nightly training with all of his innocence and no way to know that he’s in very big trouble.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Harry?”

The familiar words echo through the office and Harry freezes just inside the doorway. “What?”

“Come in. Close the door. Sit down.”

The younger boy obeys, gingerly, like there might be a land mine under the cushion of the seat he’s been offered. “Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“I don’t know. Did you?”

“I- I don’t think so. What’s going on? Please?”

Louis is obsessively flattening the crease in the paper over and over again as he chooses his words ever so carefully. “Is there anything that you neglected to tell me when we talked that first night? Anything about your past that you might feel is relevant now that slipped your mind then?” Dead silence. “No? Alright, I’ll give you a hint. Let’s talk about this.”

He leans forward and flattens the paper on the coffee table before Harry, all splayed out so that his own face and name looms up at him with every offense listed below like a tidy little order of execution. Harry immediately pales. His eyes flick around the room, trying to find somewhere to land that isn’t Louis or the paper between them. “I can explain,” he chokes out at last.

“I certainly hope so. Felony assault, Harry? Random violence? What the fuck is that?” Louis isn’t sure when he got so angry, when there grew to be a little bloom of hurt in his chest. _Betrayal._

“It wasn’t me, I swear. Please, you have to believe me,” Harry says desperately, hands trembling as he clasps them white-knuckled before him. “It was a frame job, just like the rest.”

“No king could ever interpret the code to condone violence like that, and they certainly wouldn’t sanction a cover-up,” Louis fires back. “That isn’t how this works.”

“It wasn’t the king. He didn’t… he didn’t sanction it.”

Louis pauses. “Then his knight did. But the same rules still apply- your leadership wouldn’t have pinned a violent crime on you if you weren’t responsible!”

“It wasn’t the knight, either. It was…” Harry’s face is impossibly sad. “Rogue, it was another thief. He did this to me.”

The words refuse to compute in Louis’ mind. “What do you mean, another thief? You mean someone did this to you without your king’s permission? But that’s-”

“A violation of the code.”

He sinks back into his seat, the feelings of hurt at his own perceived betrayal vanishing in the presence of Harry’s. “Start at the beginning,” he says weakly. “Don’t leave anything out.”

“There’s not much to tell, really. It started out like every other time,” Harry begins, voice quiet and subdued. “Normally, when someone knew that the cops were onto them for something, they would come and tell me what happened, all the little details. So the story would check out. And then they’d call the cops and give an anonymous tip saying it was me who pulled off whatever job, and I’d get picked up and I went to jail.

“But this time it was different. No one came to tell me anything, the cops just showed up one day and arrested me. They said that there had been a witness when I almost killed that guy, that I was going away for a long time. I had no idea what was going on,” Harry said, his voice starting to crack with emotion as his breath got shallower and shallower. “No one warned me. But I thought it was normal still, I thought that this was what the king wanted-”

His voice breaks off, Harry’s head falling into his hands for a few long, tense moments. Louis isn’t sure he’s breathing. “What happened?” he prompts quietly.

“The cops laid the whole thing out for me, wanted a confession. And I was so scared, because I’ve never been accused of a felony before, so when they offered me a plea deal-”

“No,” Louis whispers. “Tell me you didn’t confess.”

“I didn’t think I had a choice,” Harry whispers back. “I thought I was supposed to be taking the fall for this, too. But then they sentenced me to a year- a whole _year-_ in maximum security. And that was letting me off easy, for the plea and the clean record and the good behavior. And someone comes to visit me in jail, says the guy who really did it is out of the crew because he broke the code and blamed me behind the king’s back.”

“They should have made him turn himself in.” Louis’ head spins, like if he thinks hard enough he can go back in time and make a way for Harry not to have to go through that. “They should have made him do the time instead of making you pay for what he did!”

“They would have needed his confession to override mine,” Harry said miserably. “For all the cops knew, there was a witness that had seen me. They would need proof it was him, and no one had any.”

“So that was it? They just left you there in max?”

Harry has this light that never seems to leave his eyes, even when he’s hesitant and afraid. Louis has never seen them anywhere near cold. They are cold now.

“It was the worst year of my life,” Harry simply says. “It wasn’t like spending a night or two in jail with drunks and pickpockets, it was… It was terrible. A year, locked up with murderers and rapists and child abusers. Guys that eat guys like me for breakfast.”

“I can’t-” That’s all Louis can get out. _I can’t._

“I still have the bruises from where they kicked the shit out of me everyday. See?” Harry is standing before Louis can stop him, lifting up the hem of his shirt to show off the mural of mottled bruises covering his abdomen. “Wish I could show you all the bones they broke, but I guess you’d need an x-ray for that.”

Numbers start lining up in Louis’ head as he started counting forward from the sentencing date on the rap sheet. The months keep ticking by and by, until- “Harry, when did you get released? You must have _just_ gotten out-”

“I came here straight from the prison.”

“Oh my god…”

For once, there is no apology in Harry’s gaze. “I could take them using me, and them shoving me around, but Rogue, I couldn’t let them do that to me. I can’t go back to maximum security. Please, don’t make me go back.”

“Fuck,” Louis breathes, and before he knows it he’s coming around the coffee table to wrap Harry in a tight hug that probably isn’t supposed to happen between kings and their apprentices. “Fuck. Of course not. Shit, Harry, that’s fucking horrible. Of course you’re not going to go back. We would never send you there, especially not for something you didn’t do. Okay? You’re safe here. I promise.”

It takes a long moment for Harry’s arms to wind around Louis in return, but when they do, it feels like he’s hanging on for dear life. The king of the thieves lets him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I don't have a therapist but if I had a therapist he or she would probably tell me that I need to stop terrorizing Harry for the sake of warming my heart when Louis saves him~~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: *sly face* boys touching other boys' penises ahead

They don’t really talk about that night a lot after that. It’s tucked into the back of both minds, silent and still long after Niall has been assured that this is a mistake and Harry has been assigned his own tent, anyways. Sometimes Louis can notice a little coldness now, when he’s most scared, like one great fear necessarily recalls another. Harry sometimes catches his king looking at him a little too closely to have forgotten Harry’s secrets.

But they continue to train, fruitless though it may seem. Harry, no matter how much effort Louis pours into him, continues to suck at almost every thief’s task given to him. Some nights Louis can’t even find the time to give Harry private lessons, just brings him along on whatever job he’s doing and begs him to stay quiet and still off to the side so that nothing goes terribly awry. By all accounts this grand experiment is a failure-

-except Louis can’t bring himself to see it as a failure. There’s something like fondness growing in his mostly-blackened heart for this absolute idiot of a criminal that makes him laugh instead of yell when he trips during a B&E, and smile instead of scowl when he comes back from a pickpocketing round breathless with a black eye instead of loaded with wallets.

It’s a very strange sensation, actually. Louis mostly tries very hard to ignore it.

But there is no denying that things are changing between them. There is no denying that Harry’s breath quickens whenever Louis steps close to teach him a new trick, or that Louis’ mouth gets a little dry when he focuses too much on Harry’s hands. There is something there, something that wasn’t before, and Louis for one is tired of pretending there isn’t.

Which is kind of crazy, because he doesn’t even know if the guy is gay- hell, he’s never even publicized the fact that _he’s_ gay- so he probably should have tried to have a conversation about it with Harry before he invited him over to the flat one night. But sometimes you just have to go with your gut.

“This is really nice,” Harry says nervously once Louis has shut the door behind him.

“Hmm? Oh, thanks. Decorated it myself. I was going for a ‘miscellaneous stolen items’ theme.” Louis is watching very carefully the way that Harry is trying to take in all the details, like he’s been given one opportunity to read the scrolls of Alexandria and this is it. “It’s just a flat, Styles,” Louis says at last.

Harry grins widely. “Sorry, just- I’d heard that no one gets to know where your flat is.”

That’s certainly true enough. In two years, the only person from the crew that had been inside Louis’ flat except Louis himself was Zayn, and Zayn knew everything so he hardly counted. “I don’t generally want people stopping by in the middle of the night. And you can’t be as good at your job as I am without having a fuck ton of enemies, so.”

“But you invited me here?”

“Well,” Louis begins with nothing but honesty, “you’re special.”

There’s a ‘why?’ hovering on Harry’s lips, but instead of waiting for it Louis just kisses it away. Everything he doesn’t feel like saying gets said anyway in the way that he can’t help but fist the curls at the back of Harry’s neck, how his other hand is so uncharacteristically gentle on Harry’s waist. The truth can’t stop coming out.

Harry’s responding just as strongly, his fingers curling into Louis’ shirt and hips crashing forward into Louis’ like he’s just been waiting for an excuse. “Fucking hell,” he mumbles. That about covers the entirety of his thoughts at the moment- just a swirl of exclamation points and adrenaline and want.

It has to be Louis who starts backing them towards the bedroom, because Harry is like an echo of his every movement. When Louis starts kissing hungrily, Harry kisses back just as eagerly. Louis starts tugging at his clothes, and Harry follows suit. He’s following Louis’ lead with unabashed eagerness, all flushed face and wide eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” Louis still reminds him when they fall onto the bed. He makes himself stop kissing all over that smooth skin so at least it’s a fair fight. “Just because I’m the king doesn’t mean you have to-”

“I want to, believe me,” Harry pants, bucking his hips up so Louis can feel how hard he is through the jeans he’s only half removed on the way here.

That’s all the convincing Louis needs to get straight to work removing the rest of their clothing. Harry is six gorgeous feet of pale, clean skin that’s almost humorously at odds with the dark duvet he’s spread out on. It makes Louis smile as he crawls between Harry’s legs and hovers over him, eager to be kissing that pretty mouth again.

Harry’s kisses get even more fervent when he’s touched, when Louis reaches between them and starts pulling him off, slowly, teasingly. He almost tries to return the favor, but Louis uses his free hand to pin the offending wrist to the mattress. He doesn’t need it. Every time Harry bucks up into his hand, his hips would grind against Louis’ own cock in a way that was just as satisfying of a tease.

“Blow me?” he asks a little breathlessly, when he’s spending as much time grinding down on Harry as taking care of him.

“Please,” Harry only replies. He pulls his wrist away like Louis’ grip was nothing -just how strong _is_ this kid?- and flips them over so that it’s Louis who’s on the mattress looking up at another man. Harry kisses down his torso, but quickly, too eager to tease. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It’s hot, to see Harry so unashamedly eager to have Louis’ cock in his mouth, but not as hot as the sensation itself. “Oh, fuck,” Louis exhales, relishing the feel of a tongue swirling around his tip while a practiced hand moves up and down the shaft. He may have all the innocent charm of a virgin, but that’s one thing Harry is definitely not, if the way his hands move are any indication. He’s running those long fingers over every sensitive spot on Louis’ skin, every press and caress perfectly formulated to drive Louis insane-

He grabs Harry’s curls and pulls him off as gently as he can. “You’re going to have to stop that,” he says lowly, “or this isn’t going to turn out as fun. Can I-”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t even finished asking yet, idiot.” Louis rolls his eyes.

Harry doesn’t seem bothered by the admonishment. “Oh. Right. Well, I guess I was hoping you were asking if you could fuck me into the mattress.”

Which makes Louis’ cock twitch like he’s fucking sixteen again, so of course he can’t to anything but crash his lips into Harry’s and agree. “Hold on, hold on,” he murmurs after a moment. “Condom’s in the bathroom. I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

The light is too bright in here, reflecting off the stark white tile, but Louis doesn’t care. He’s got laser focus in digging through the drawers until he finds the box of condoms and pulls one out. Anticipation makes his hands shake, makes him fumble infuriatingly for too long before he can get it on properly.

When he returns to the bedroom, he finds Harry with two fingers pushed inside himself, furiously biting his lip and eyes closed in pleasure or concentration or both. “What’s this?” Louis says with a surprised smirk. “Having fun without me?”

“Couldn’t wait, sorry,” Harry replies with a grin without opening his eyes. His hand doesn’t stop moving, either. “Took a chance on where you kept your lube- oh, _fuck.”_

Apparently he’s found a good angle, the motions of his wrist getting quicker and the flush of his neck and chest deepening. He starts to nudge a third finger in-

Which is Louis’ cue to get out of the doorway and back into bed. “Excuse me, I’ll take it from here,” he said haughtily, forcibly removing Harry’s fingers and replacing them with his own. They’re smaller, more slender, so there’s only minimal resistance when he slides in three and immediately curls them to stroke Harry’s prostate. A few futile strokes and then Harry’s arm flings up to cover his face and stifle the expletives shooting out of his mouth.

Louis grins and doesn’t stop. “You like that, baby?”

“Yes!”

“That feel good?”

“Fuck! God, yes. Just like that, please.”

“Is that satisfying?”

He delights -too much, probably- at the distraught look on Harry’s face when the younger man removes the arm from over his face to look at him. The conflict is written all over his features; is he meant to coo that of course Louis is satisfying him, or is he meant to ask for more?

But Louis doesn’t let him suffer for long. “I’m only teasing, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he whispers with a laugh. “You said you wanted to get fucked into the mattress, and I like giving people what they want.”

“Want you,” Harry dares to pant.

Louis could make him beg, could make him writhe and gasp a little more before giving in, but the truth is that years as the King of the Thieves have given him a rather strong mentality of “take what you need and don’t apologize,” and at the moment what he needs is to be deep inside Harry the way he’s been dreaming about for weeks.

He removes his fingers and leans over to grab a pillow from the far side of the bed. “Butt up,” he instructs, slipping it beneath the small of Harry’s back for a better angle. The boy settles down again and looks up at Louis with tantalizing excitement. “Tell me if I hurt you,” Louis just says as he plants a soft kiss on the center of Harry’s chest.

He presses in slowly, watching Harry’s face as he does so. He’s got one hand on Harry’s cock, gently stroking, relaxing, and the other laid flat on Harry’s stomach so he can feel the hitch of his breath and the flex of his muscles as he adjusts to the fullness. It’s only when Louis can feel him relax and take a full breath that he starts rocking his hips, smiling at the way Harry’s little murmurs are in time with the yet gentle tap of the headboard on the wall.

“Fuck me,” Harry breathes, and Louis hears the _harder_ on the end. He starts to experiment with how to make Harry sing, finding which speed and which angle and which intensity makes him moan the most. Eventually he has to move his hands to steady Harry’s thighs, which are jerking so hard every time Louis hits his prostate that Louis fears it might mess with his rhythm.

When Louis pulls out it’s without warning, and there’s already a complaint on Harry’s lips before his eyes are even open. “On your stomach,” Louis interrupts. “I promise I’m not done.” It’s just that he wants to see this marvelous body from all angles, to watch the muscles of his back contract and hear those moans stifled by the pillow he presses his face into.

It’s just as gorgeous as Louis expected, to watch Harry claw at the duvet and rut down against the mattress as Louis continues to bring their hips together again and again. One hand reaches up to run from Harry’s shoulder blades down the crease of his back and over the swell of his bum, where Louis places an affectionate smack.

“I’m close,” Harry warns, turning his face like he wants to look back at Louis but running out of energy halfway through. He winds up laying on one cheek with eyes closed and mouth forming silent words that might be prayer or praise. “I’m close. Really close. Can I-”

“Come for me, babe,” Louis instructs, stomach fluttering with excitement on Harry’s behalf. He’s moving his hips in perfect rhythm now, no teasing, focused only on helping the man beneath him go higher and higher.

It feels like an honor to watch Harry’s body tense up, to hear his breath getting shallower as he got closer and closer, to feel him shudder as Louis mutters one more, “Come, baby.” Just like that he’s coming, as if on command, bucking into the mattress and letting out a wordless cry that Louis fucks him right through.

Louis doesn’t slow until the tension is almost all gone from Harry’s body, and then it’s only to lean forward and press a kiss to his back. “You good?” he asks gently.

“Fuck. Yes. You can keep going,” Harry offers breathlessly when Louis’ hips slow to a stop. “I don’t mind-”

But Louis is already pulling out, removing the condom and tossing it on the floor. “Can I come on you?” he asks quickly, recognizing the tension building in his own gut. Maybe it’s purely selfish, but he wants to see this body painted with him. The thought makes him fist his cock with quick, rough strokes.

Harry smiles through the blissful drowsiness. “Yes, fuck, whatever you want, Rogue. Come wherever you like.”

And Louis does, with a low grunt of, “Fucking _shit!”_ He watches the cum pool in the small of Harry’s back as he continues to come for what feels like a long time, admiring the way little splatters decorate the skin of Harry’s bum like a masterpiece. He keeps stroking until his head is clear of the high and his cock is raw from overstimulation. Harry has his eyes open now, head twisted around to watch Louis in apparent fascination.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Louis grins as he crawls up to capture Harry’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. “Your body was too inviting.”

“Are you talking about coming on me, or the fact that you pounced on your poor, defenseless protégé without any warning at all?”

“Oh please,” says Louis with a roll of his eyes. He nibbles Harry’s ear a little lazily, still kneeling above him. “You’re a smart guy. You saw that coming.”

“Well. I was certainly hopeful.”

Louis laughs and sits back on his heels to take in all of the scene. “Stay still, if you move you’ll make a mess,” he orders, finding a t-shirt in the top of the laundry basket at the foot of the bed and using it to wipe up most of his work.

“I think it’s too late to save your duvet,” Harry says sheepishly when Louis is through, rolling aside. “Sorry bout that.”

“That’s what tomorrows and washing machines are for,” Louis says lightly, pulling it out from underneath Harry and bunching it up on the floor. “We’ll use a spare blanket tonight, no big deal.”

“‘We?’” Harry echoes tremulously. “Does that mean you want me to stay?”

“No, I meant me and the next lad I have coming in here. Yes, I want you to stay,” Louis snorts. “You’re going to go take a quick shower, and then you’re going to get back in my bed and act like the giant space heater you are.”

Apparently this isn’t much of an insult to Harry, who just happily struggles to his feet and over to the bathroom to follow Louis’ instructions. He’s back again in under five minutes, still glowing and flushed and more sheepish than before. “Should I put my clothes back on, or?” he asks, biting his lip shyly with the towel still wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t care,” Louis answers, already half asleep. “I’m naked, but do what you want. Doesn’t bother me.” Harry must choose naked as well, because it’s only a few seconds later that Louis feels that warm body crawl into bed next to him. “Come here, don’t be shy. Cuddle in.”

“Okay,” Harry happily replies, moving closer until his head is on Louis’ shoulder and one arm is slung across his middle. “This okay?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you, Rogue,” Harry says quietly after a moment. “That was-thank you.”

Louis grins into the mess of curls on his chest. “You don’t have to thank me, that just makes it weird. And, for the record, if we’re going to keep fucking you’re going to have to stop addressing me by my title. Feels a bit formal for a guy who’s had my cock in his mouth.”

He can feel the smile break out on Harry’s face. “So I get to have that more than once?”

“Are you kidding me?” Louis snorts. “Of course we’re doing that again. You’re amazing with your hands-”

And that’s when it hits him, like a bolt of lightning. Louis sits upright in bed, startling the boy on his chest, and snaps his fingers with epiphany. “Fuck, that’s it!” he says delightedly, twisting around to face the bewildered Harry. “Your hands. You’re good with your hands.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“No, listen, that’s the ticket!” Louis presses on excitedly. “You’re too clumsy to sneak around, and too honest to be a cheat, but you’re smart and you’ve got skilled hands. Harry, you can be a lockpick!”

It takes a second for Harry to catch on that they aren’t talking about sex anymore but rather his career as a criminal, and as it sinks in his face lights up. “Yeah, I totally could! I used to do model airplanes as a kid, so I’m good with tiny tools, and I could learn how to break into all kinds of doors and stuff!”

“Exactly! Oh, I’m so relieved,” Louis exhales as he flops down on the bed. “I knew you had a skill in you, I knew it. I just had to think of it, that’s all.”

“And all because you gave me the opportunity to show you how good I was with my hands,” Harry says smugly as he settled back into Louis. “That was a good call on your part.”

“I fucking second that,” Louis yawns, the smile still plastered on his face. Between the sex and the relief of solving this grandest mystery, he’s only awake just long enough to hear Harry hum with happiness before he drifts off into the most restful slumber he’s had in ages.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to that miraculous day in 2012 where Louis said in a live international interview that Harry was very good with his hands. There is a god.... god is real....
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goopy sappy sugary floofy fluff tbh

Having sex with Harry might have been one of the best decisions that Louis has ever made.

Not just because they continue to have incredible sex whenever they get the chance, but also because of the truly brilliant epiphany that came of it. Louis starts training Harry on lockpicking the very next day, and it’s an instant hit. He has a knack for feeling the pins drop in place, and a gentle touch that never seems rushed. It’s like he’s coaxing the locks to open.

Once he knows  _ how _ to pick the locks, he starts getting faster. He’s like an eager little sponge soaking up all the tricks Louis has to teach him, until Louis simply runs out of tricks. “I think I’ve taught you all I know on the subject, Haz,” he finally has to admit. “From here on out it’s just practice, I guess!”

And that’s exactly what Harry did, for weeks and weeks until he was begging Louis to let him try it in the real world. “You can come along to make sure I don’t mess anything up,” he pleads. “I know I can do it! You just have to give me a chance.”

That, at least, Louis could not deny.

He chooses sunrise, that beautifully unsuspecting time of day, to let Harry test his skills. He’s been cruising around the residential neighborhoods on the edge of London, scoping out the perfect target for his protegee. He finds it in a quaint little house on a quiet little street that looks like it never gets any crime. Which explains why there’s no security system, and why the owners are careless enough to let their newspapers pile up like a flashing neon sign that says, “WE’RE ON VACATION, COME ROB US.”

They come at it through the woods that stand behind the house, sneaking up in the early dawn light to survey the scene. No one on the street is moving yet and the back of the house is still in shadow, including the back door which stands there waiting to be violated.

“Put your hood up,” Louis murmurs. “Walk quickly across the yard, but don’t run. You’ll draw less attention and the extra few seconds won’t break you. Get through the lock as quick as you can. Once it’s open get inside and shut the door. I’ll wait a minute and then follow you in. We need to be out in under five minutes, if we can. Okay?”

“Okay. Got it. You’ll be watching, right? The whole time?” Harry’s lip is actually bleeding from where he was gnawing it too much.

“Of course, babe. The whole time. If you need me, whistle, okay? I’ll do the same. If I whistle that means you come back straight away.” A good snog might have sorted out the poor kid’s nerves, but as his king Louis can’t justify the distraction. He just squeezes gently on Harry’s shoulder instead. “You can do this, I promise. You ready?”

“Um. Yes?”

“Go!”

He’s very obedient, taking off at once to head across the yard at a moderate pace. If you looked closely you could see the tension in his shoulders, but at least he isn’t sprinting or trying to crouch. His pick kit is out of his pocket as soon as he reaches the door and he doesn’t delay in starting his work. All is quiet and still as he begins to coerce the lock into opening.

But then the minutes drag on and Louis gets a sinking feeling in his gut. Something is wrong. Harry isn’t quite a master lockpick yet, but he doesn’t usually take  _ this _ long. The lock must be jammed, our doubly secured-

That’s when Louis notices the face in the next door window. A middle-aged woman with curlers in her hair and a concerned expression is peeking out from behind the curtains and looking straight at where Harry’s kneeling at the back door. She turns her head, as if to talk to someone behind her, and Louis sees with dismay the phone that she has pressed to her ear.

“Oh, fucking piss,” he groans. There’s no time to lose; the nearest police station is just around the corner and that means they have maybe three minutes before the cops are on the scene. He whistles once, low and long, and sees Harry’s shoulders stiffen up. He continues to be obedient though, immediately stopping what he’s doing and walking back across the yard. Louis sort of wishes he would run.

“Give me your jacket,” he hisses as soon as Harry is safe under the cover of the trees. “Quickly, come on! Give it to me.”

Harry complies, though he doesn’t understand. “What’s going on? I’m sorry, I- the lock was different than the ones I’ve been practicing on, and I was nervous and I kept messing up-”

“Don’t worry about it,” dismisses Louis. “Where’s your pick kit? Give it here. Good. Okay, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” he says urgently as he zips Harry’s jacket on over his shirt, wishing that innocent face didn’t look so pinched and concerned. “The next door neighbor is calling the cops right now, and they’re going to be here any minute. If they dust that door for fingerprints, they’re going to find yours all over it and with a record like yours they’ll have you identified and charged in two minutes flat.”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Harry croaks, running his hands through his hair in dismay. “Should I go back and wipe it? I was going to after, I just- you whistled and I-”

“You can’t go back now, it’ll look suspicious,” Louis interrupts. “Besides, that just gives the neighbors more of a chance to look at your face and get a description. Or worse, a picture.”

“So basically I’m fucked.”

Louis licks his lips, a little nervous. “Not necessarily. I’ve got your jacket and your pick kit, so if I offer myself up as a suspect they’re going to take the bait and not bother with prints. I’ve got a better record than yours so it won’t be as bad-”

“You’re going to be a scapegoat for me?” Harry crows, distraught. “But you can’t! This was all my fault, and you’re the king! Give me back my stuff, I’ll pay for my own crimes-”

“Styles, do not argue with me,” The Rogue, King of the Thieves of London commands harshly. “I am the one calling the shots and you will  _ do as I say.” _

Harry looks even more hurt than Louis had expected him to, which is saying something. “Louis, please, don’t do this. I’m begging you,” he pleads, just above a whisper.

But there are sirens in the distance and no other option to be found. “Get the fuck out of here, Styles. That’s an order.”

It’s like a physical pain, to see the distress and confusion on Harry’s face even as he turns and runs back through the woods as Louis demanded. Louis is almost tempted to call him back, for a kiss if nothing else, but he squashes that thought as soon as it comes up. This is no time to be soft. He’s about to do time, and soft doesn’t go over well in jail.

It goes down exactly as Louis expects it to. The cops arrive and go straight for the woods, no doubt following instructions from the nosey neighbor. They find Louis about ten meters in, “hiding” behind a dead tree, and immediately order him to put his hands in the air. “Damn, you got me,” he says drily as he obeys.

“R-Rogue?” hisses the cop that comes from behind to place him in cuffs. “What the hell are you doing?”

Louis turns his head and grins when he realizes it’s Liam that has the honor of arresting him. “Why, officer, isn’t it obvious?” he says lightly, enjoying this far too much. “I was breaking into that house. Would have got away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling neighbor!”

After a few assurances that he has the suspect under control, Liam is able to lead Louis off to the side and deposit him on the hood of his cruiser. “Seriously, what the fuck is going on? You’re way too good to get caught like this, Rogue, and we both know it.”

“Pat me down, I have a pick kit in my pocket,” Louis just calmly replies. “And a pocket knife in the front left, there, be careful.”

“You know I have to arrest you, right?” Liam tosses the offending items on the car and continues searching Louis’ person with trained precision. “I can’t let you walk. Not with witnesses and hard evidence.”

“Of course I know that, Liam, this isn’t my first rodeo. I didn’t even know you were going to be the one arresting me.”

“But you knew that you were going to get arrested?”

“Oh, please, if I had wanted to get away then you’d have no way to find me,” sniffs Louis. “You’re right, I’m way too good to get caught like this- unless I intend to.”

Liam can’t argue what he knows to be true, so he just sighs and carries on with the processing. He guides Louis to sit in the backseat of his car and pauses in the open door. “You’ll tell Niall that this wasn’t my fault, right?” he frets in an undertone. “He’s finally starting to warm up to me and I don’t want him to get pissed that I arrested the king-”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Liam, I’ll make sure he knows,” Louis laughs. “He’ll adore you just as much tomorrow as he did yesterday, I promise.”

At that, Liam perks up. “He adores me? Did he  _ say _ that?”

“Shut the door, Payne, and take me to jail already.”

………………… 

“Hello?”

“Hey, Zayn, it’s me.”

“Oh, if it isn’t the London correctional institution’s most recent move-in!” Zayn says, too delighted. You can hear his smirk through the phone line. “Getting sloppy in your old age or something?”

“Shut up,” Louis growls with no real malice. He’s smirking, too. “If you know, I guess that means Harry made it back okay?”

“Yeah, he got in an hour ago. He’s an absolute wreck.”

“But okay though, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Shaken up, but. More guilty than anything else.”

_ No surprise there. _ “Probably won’t help much, but tell him it’s alright, yeah? And Liam wants me to make sure Niall isn’t pissed at him.”

“What am I, your answering machine? Taking messages for you now?”

“While I’m inside, you’re my everything,” Louis says sternly. “Public defender says I’ll probably get about a month, since my record is relatively clean. As long as I have good behavior.”

“Fat chance of that happening.”

“Yeah, well.” Louis grins. “Might try. Who knows what you’ll do to my poor family while I’m in. Look, I have to go,” he says seriously when a guard gives him the ‘wrap it up’ signal. “But I want everything to go on as normal while I’m in, yeah? Nothing new. No crazy stuff.”

“I know how to run this place, Rogue,” Zayn gently reminds him. “I practically do already.”

“I know, I know. You do. They’re in good hands with you.”

“Yeah.”

“Keep Tucker reigned in, if you can. He only half-behaves because he’s afraid of me, anyways. Punch him in the mouth as much as needed, you have my permission.”

Zayn snorts. “Noted. Anything else that I already know that you’d like to instruct me on, or are you ready to go meet your new bunkmate?”

“Fuck you,” Louis says as he hangs up the phone.  _ God, _ does he love his best friend.

When the guards come and get him during visiting hours a few days later, he assumes that it’s Zayn who’s come to sort out some detail of some op in the cryptic code they’ve perfected in their time together. Louis puzzles it over as he meanders down the line taped in the center of the hall, wondering which question Zayn could  _ possibly _ not have the answer to.

But it isn’t Zayn who waits on the other side of the glass, it’s Harry. “Oh my god,” Louis sighs, and almost turns around and walks right back out, except prisoners aren’t typically encouraged to make sudden movements and besides, those stupid dimples are out in full force. He sits and picks up the phone with an exasperated sigh. “What the fuck are you doing here, Harry?”

“Good to see you, too,” Harry tries to joke, even as his face falls.

“Of course I’m glad to see you,” Louis replies, trying for something a little softer. “Now get the fuck out. You’ve spent enough time in prisons, you don’t need to be here.”

“It’s different on this side of the glass.”

“Well.”

Harry isn’t really even looking at Louis, too busy fingering the cord of his phone. “Did I mention how sorry I am?”

“Once or twice. Hey, look at me. Look at me, Haz.” Louis waits until those sad green eyes are meeting his to continue. “I knew what I was getting into, and I stand by the choice. I’d make it again, okay?”

“You were my sc- you did this for me,” Harry says quietly. “You didn’t have to, but you did.”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to come and thank you in person. Is that okay?”

“Of course, you collossal dork,” Louis sighs, even though his mouth betrays him by twitching into a smile. “I’d expect nothing less sentimental from you. Making grand gestures when it isn’t even a big deal.”

“It’s a month of your life, that’s a pretty big deal,” Harry defends.

This was getting a little too candid for a monitored conversation, so Louis just shrugs. “Prison isn’t so bad. Kind of like a vacation, if you think about it. I don’t have to deal with a warehouse full of miscreants for a while, that’s always nice.”

It’s a giant, whopping lie, and Harry knows it. Just like he knows that no matter how casual Louis likes to act, this is not a small deal. He had taken a metaphorical bullet for Harry, and that isn’t something you can just shrug away.

But Harry doesn’t say anything, even if Louis can see the understanding written all over his face. Louis smiles through the glass at him, a little sadly. “Get the fuck out of here,” he says again. “And don’t come around again. I don’t want to see you again while I’m in here.”

“But you’ll- you’ll see me when you get back?” Harry says.  _ I haven’t ruined this whatever-we’re-doing by getting you arrested? _ he doesn’t say.

“Of course.”  _ Of course you haven’t. _

“Okay. If you promise.”

In a brief moment of insanity, Louis sticks his pinky finger up and presses it against the glass for Harry to match like a twisted, sort-of pinky swear. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three cheers for remembering to update even though it's finals week and I haven't slept properly in days! If I miss a day feel free to come to tumblr and throw a rock at me as a reminder. I'm in a haze of caffeine and everything is glorious
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Boys touching other boys ahead *eyebrow wiggle*

It’s a long month, but not the longest Louis’ ever experienced. He gets pretty frequent visits from Zayn, to keep him cryptically posted on what’s going on with the crew. Apparently it hasn’t been the best month financially, but no one’s due to be joining Louis on the inside so that feels like a win.

Harry keeps his word and doesn’t come back. Louis bites his tongue whenever Zayn comes around, forces himself not to ask a bunch of stupid questions. Only once does he let himself ever-so-casually ask, “So how’s H- Styles? Everybody treating him okay without me around?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s doing alright,” Zayn answers with a raised eyebrow. “Been practicing with locks all day, every day. He’s getting pretty damn good, actually.”

“Good,” Louis simply replies, instead of smirking with pride. “That’s really- that’s really good.”  _ That’s my boy. _

Zayn is the one to pick him up when he’s released, of course. “Good to see you not wearing orange. It made you look pasty as fuck,” he teases, but he slips into Louis’ open arms for a short, tight hug anyways. “Everyone’s stoked you’re out. The kids have missed you.”

“Yeah, right,” Louis snorts as he takes the keys from Zayn and climbs behind the wheel. “They love it when I’m away. Daddy’s not home so they can fuck around.”

“No they can’t, not while Mum’s still home.”

“Fair point.”

They drive in silence for the rest of the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to the warehouse. Zayn is quiet because he’s Zayn- unless he has something purposeful to say, he’s going to keep his mouth shut. Louis, who could babble for hours just to fill silence, is too preoccupied to bother doing so now. His stomach is either butterflies or knots or both.

“Zayn, I’ve just remembered, I thought of something while I was away. You know that office supply chain we were going to hit last summer?”

“The one with the security guard? Yeah, what’s up?”

“I want you to go check it out again. I heard talk that they switched to dummy cameras. Budget cuts. We might be able to make quick work of it now.”

Zayn eyes him suspiciously. “You want me to go check it out  _ now? _ It’s on the other side of the city, and I need to give you a proper welcome home brief-”

“That can wait,” Louis finishes shortly.  _ I have more important matters to attend to. _

His orders are followed, as usual, and he’s alone when he walks into the warehouse. Heads swivel as usual, a hundred professional paranoids looking to see who’s walked into their midst, and someone lets out an excited cry of, “The king! He’s home!”

He’s watching the entrance to the tent where he knows Harry will be, so he notices when right away that mess of dark, curly hair pokes out and scans the room for him. Their eyes meet. Harry is stumbling out of the tent. 

But the swarm of other thieves gets to him first and there are dozens of his charges surrounding him, each wanting to shake his hand and clap his back and pick his brain about life on the inside. Louis greets them all and waits patiently until the hand on his shoulder is the familiar one he’s been missing.

The look on Harry’s face says he might have been about to say something sweet or profound, but Louis doesn’t give him the chance. He puts his mouth right to Harry’s ear and utters a simple, unyielding, “My office.  _ Now.” _

It might have been a reprimand. Harry certainly seems worried for a moment as he pulls back, but then he notices the heat in Louis’ eyes is very different than anger. His heartbeat starts to quicken and he’s stumbling up the stairs to the office before anyone can even notice the exchange.

Louis stays downstairs in the den for a few more minutes, ruffling hair and lying about prison tattoos and trying to act like his head isn’t someplace else entirely. Eventually, the buzz begins to die down and he can follow Harry up the stairs without too much of a fuss.

The poor guy has no idea what hit him. Louis is on him before the door is closed, hands roaming Harry’s body as they pull him close and mouth needy in its kisses. “I fucking missed you,” he says lowly, punctuating the sentence with the sound of Harry’s back slamming against the door.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Harry breathlessly replies. His hands are gripping Louis’ bum, pulling him impossibly closer so that there’s as much friction as possible as Louis grinds on him. It isn’t long before they’re both hard, reunion and intensity making it impossible to play coy.

Suddenly the press of Louis against him is gone, and Harry is being dragged by one wrist to the other side of the room. “Help me close these goddamn blinds,” Louis says urgently, fumbling with the shades that cut off the view of the den below. They each start at one end and meet in the middle of the now-dark room, right next to Louis’ poor, neglected desk. “That’s better,” he murmurs. “Privacy is good. Can’t have everyone getting to see that gorgeous face you make when my mouth is on your cock.”

It isn’t a question -not that Harry would have answered with anything but a resounding ‘please and thank you!’- so he just leans back against the desk and holds onto the edge for dear life. Louis sinks to his knees before the boy, hands shaking with adrenaline as he undoes Harry’s belt and starts to pull down the jeans and boxers in one swift go. He doesn’t even bother getting them past mid-thigh, just surges forward like he’s done nothing in the last month but sit and wait to have Harry’s cock in his mouth, which may or may not be true.

“I fucking missed you,” Louis keeps confessing every time he stops for air. Harry wants to reply but he’s too busy trying not to lose it.

After a few minutes he can’t stand it anymore. “Louis, Louis, Louis,” he pleads, tugging up on the man’s shirt until he stands and kisses Harry on the mouth. “Can you-”

“Can I fuck you?” Louis interrupts him to beg. His whole body is gagging for it, desperate to be inside of Harry  _ right now. _ “Fuck, I missed you so goddamn much, please-”

“Are you hard? Can I-”

“On the desk,” Louis is already saying, scooping up all the long-forgotten papers and tossing them on the floor so Harry could lay on his back on the dark wood surface. “God help me, I don’t know how I’m going to be patient enough to open you up properly,” he sighed to himself as he helped pull Harry’s bottoms the rest of the way off. He’s trying to slow down, to admire the muscles in Harry’s thighs and the cream of his skin, but it’s so damn  _ hard. _

“Actually, there’s no need,” Harry replies with a blush. “I might have, erm, prepped a little. In anticipation. I wasn’t sure, but I hoped you’d have time to see me today, ‘cause I’ve missed you and-”

Louis kisses away the end of the sentence. “You know me so well.”

“Do you have a condom?” Harry presses. “I didn’t bring any up with me.”

“No worries, Zayn keeps one in his wallet. Which I borrowed from his pocket when he picked me up at the prison,” Louis said slyly as he steps out of his boxers. “Remind me to replace that later, for the sake of all his future girlfriends.”

Harry laughs and takes advantage of the brief moments it takes for Louis to get the condom on by wetting his fingers and pressing them inside himself. This isn’t the first time they’ve wound up frantically fucking with only the condom’s lubricant to ease the way. He doesn’t mind; a month is thirty days too long to have gone without the feel of Louis’ skin on his.

“Remind me to rim the hell out of you when I’m not so desperate to be inside of you,” Louis remarks in a groan, climbing up between Harry’s legs and hovering over him with a grin.

There’s a witty reply somewhere in the back of Harry’s mind but he forgets it because Louis is pushing into him and it’s rough and it’s passionate and he’s missed this. They both have, Louis relishing in the sight of Harry’s closed eyes and open mouth and the sound of those tiny exhales that escape him with every thrust. For a minute it’s enough to just feel their bodies sliding against one another, but then he’s searching for a better angle, one that will make Harry moan-

“Fuck,” he swears the third time his knee slips off the desk. Apparently, whoever designed this did not have recreational activities in mind, because there is no way that the two of them can both fit on its surface and still have adequate room to maneuver. “Fuck. On the floor, on the floor,” he instructs, pulling out of Harry and practically falling on the floor in his haste.

Somehow it’s now Harry who’s on top, trapping one of Louis’ legs between his thighs and pinning those narrow shoulders to the floor with one massive hand. He’s kissing Louis, but slow, intimate, forcing Louis to calm the fervor that he’s had since he walked into the room and pounced on the younger boy. “Can I ride you, Lou?” he asks sweetly, like Louis might be capable of denying him.

“Yes, baby, yes,” Louis just pants in reply, relishing in the delight and anticipation on Harry’s face as he kneels with his hips above Louis’, lines up, and sinks down.

He tries very hard to let Harry set the pace, to be still and let Harry properly ride him like he asked so sweetly for permission to do. But Louis’ been dreaming of a reunion like this for a month now, and his hips are bucking up without his permission, hands holding Harry’s hips while he fucks up into the boy he’s been missing-

-and comes, unexpectedly, like a suckerpunch to the gut that leaves him swearing and hard-pressed to get a full breath of air in his lungs. Harry holds dutifully still, sparkling eyes locked on Louis’ face as he watches the man come inside of him.

“Fuck, sorry, should have asked,” Louis grunts as soon as he can. “Should have let you come first. Jesus.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry assures him as he lifts himself off and leans down to kiss Louis. “I missed you. You deserve to come however you like.”

Louis’ heart is still pounding from the high. “What about you?”

“How do you want me?”

“In my mouth,” Louis sighs honestly. “Been too long since I tasted you. Please?”

And Harry, bless him, is so immediately willing. He scoots forward to kneel above Louis’ head, eyes shut in concentration as one hand worked his cock. Louis’ knows when it’s coming, because Harry’s other hand starts scrabbling distractedly at Louis’ arm, nails digging in with the sensation until all at once he positions his hips, gives one final stroke, and comes right into Louis’ waiting mouth.

For a minute the only sound in the office is the rattle of the aging HVAC system and the pants of the two men. Harry eventually moves to flop on his back next to Louis, both of them sprawled out, naked and spent, on the frayed carpet. Louis reaches over and feels around next to him for Harry’s hand. When he finds it, he laces their fingers together and squeezes. “You came to visit me in prison.”

Harry nods wordlessly. He knows it’s significant. It means something to Louis, and if Louis can’t quite verbalize it then Harry isn’t going to force him to. He’ll just lay here and nod his head and squeeze Louis’ hand right back.

Eventually they pull on pants and move to the couch, bodies loose and relaxed for the first time in what feels like ages. Louis holds Harry to his chest, despite being almost buried under his larger frame, running one hand gently up and down his spine in a comforting caress. “How’ve you been?” he asks conversationally.

“Not as good as I am now,” Harry replies easily, making Louis snort. “But good, actually. I’m making friends in the crew, I guess, since I was spending more time with them than I was before.”

Louis grins to himself. “Sorry, am I cramping your social life?”

“Definitely. You’re really holding me back, I think.”

“Bullshit! I brought you up from nothing and taught you everything you know,” insists Louis in his trademark teasing tone. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t know a pin from a tumbler.”

Harry’s head pops up and his eyes are suddenly bright. “That reminds me! I have to show you something.”

“Eh? Alright, babe, no need to freak out- hey!” Louis protests as Harry got up and made for the door. “Where are you going? Haz! At least put a shirt on!”

Harry picks up one of the shirts from the floor and pulls it on wordlessly on his way out the door. It’s several minutes of Louis scowling at the ceiling before Harry returns with a pillowcase full of something in one hand and his lockpick kit in the other. He does not, as Louis wishes, return to the couch, but rather plops himself down on the floor next to it and upends the pillowcase to reveal-

“That is a fuckton of locks,” Louis observes, looking at the display between them. There are all kinds, from combination locks to padlocks and even a few disembodied doorknobs and deadbolts.

“I’ve been practicing non-stop since you went away,” Harry proudly declares. “I’ve been trying to get as many different models as possible, so I can know all of them, and I’ve got it so that I can get any of these in under ten seconds.”

“Can you?” asks Louis, surprised but impressed. “Jesus. Did you sleep at all this month, or-?”

Harry blinks up at him entirely too seriously. “Some.”

He then proceeds to give a demonstration, dismantling each lock and tossing it aside like a child’s discarded toy. Most impressive by far are the combination locks, which Harry solves by pressing his ear close and listening to the sound of the mechanics clicking inside. “I definitely didn’t teach you that,” Louis mumbles, in awe despite himself.

They stay there for a while, laying atop one another on the couch for as long as Louis thinks is safe, knowing Zayn will have to return at some point. “I’m pretty sure he already knows that we’re- that we have a thing,” he explains to Harry as he forces himself to sit, “but he might be pissed if he figures out I sent him to the other side of London so I could shag you on our office floor.”

Zayn is not, apparently, the only one to be aware of the exact nature of Harry and Louis’ whatever-it-was. When Louis emerges from the office a tasteful five minutes after Harry and goes down to join the crew in the den, he’s met with more than a few knowing smiles and fleeting winks.

“Why’s everyone got that look on their faces?” he asks Niall, who’s perched atop one of the broken old assembly lines with three laptops surrounding him, apparently ‘boosting the router’ or some other cover story for doing something he shouldn’t.

“Probably because you’re fucking Styles on the down low,” Niall smoothly replies.

Louis has to fight to keep the telling smile off his face. “Why on earth would you say that?”

“Rogue, come on,” says Niall as gently as he can. “You came in, sent him to your office, closed the blinds, and sent him out again limping.”

“That doesn’t- I could have just-”

“He was wearing your clothes.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the crew’s worst kept secret, I’m afraid.” 

He tries to clap a comforting hand on his king’s shoulder, but Louis already has his head thrown back laughing. “Well at least we can stop sneaking around. Where  _ is _ that rookie of ours? I could go a round two, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and THAT'S how you welcome home the beau ;)
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Boys touching each other as usual because I love you <3

When the King of the Thieves actually gets around to acting like a king again, he’s pleased but not surprised that Zayn has kept things running smoothly while he’s away. There were a few incidents, but when you give a bunch of miscreants a series of risky jobs, there will  _ always  _ be incidents. Louis’ just glad Frito hasn’t driven another car into the river and Tucker hasn’t tried to rob a drug kingpin- again.

Speaking of Louis’ strongest recurring headache, Tucker seems to have made it his goal while Louis was in prison to be the absolute biggest pain in the arse possible. It’s like watching a petulant child acting out in school; not only is he full of his usual bad ideas and risky endeavors, but now he has a bad attitude that’s working its way through the crew like poison.

“This is getting out of hand,” Louis growls to Zayn as they stand side by side in the office and lookd down on the scene below. There’s ten feet of empty space around Tucker where no one dares get too close, despite the fact that he’s only  _ just _ been reprimanded by Zayn’s left hook.

“I’m not sure there’s much more we can do,” Zayn sighs. “Technically he’s not in the wrong. There’s nothing in the code against being a dick.”

“Can’t we nail him on fucking… disrespect? Or something?”

“I’ll find something,” answers Zayn with finality. “This isn’t healthy anymore. He’s fucking with the whole dynamic of the crew.”

It isn’t a lie. Most of the people milling around in the den beneath them are restless, agitated. The only genuinely relaxed faces to be seen are those of Niall and Liam, who are just strolling in the doors, holding hands and looking very enamored with one another. Louis smiles at the pair; his words must have gotten through to the lad because he’s stopped teasing his admirer and started letting him in more. It’s a bit like watching a news story on a heist you successfully pulled off, a feeling of pride swelling in Louis’ chest as he observes his (sort-of) handiwork.

But then even that oasis of peace is destroyed when Tucker barrels right through them on his way out, bumping into Niall with enough force to make him stumble. Louis can see it all playing out like a silent movie: the wince as Niall rubs his shoulder, the anger that furrows Liam’s brow, the heated words exchanged between him and Tucker. They can’t hear from their crow’s nest what exactly is said, but it’s clear as day when Liam pulls his arm back and lands a suckerpunch straight to Tucker’s jaw.

Zayn is the first one out the door and down the stairs to the Den, with Louis hot on his heels. “Cool the fuck off!” he shouts, leaping between the brawling duo and trying to separate them. A mob is forming though, in support of both sides, and Zayn’s shouts demanding peace are drowned out in the chaos. From his place on the steps Louis can see the fervor spreading, infecting people one by one as they leap to defend their fellow thief or to condemn him. It’s like wildfire and Louis can see the way it could burn his entire kingdom down. 

It just makes his roar all that much louder.  _ “Enough!” _

Everyone in the warehouse freezes as their king’s voice echoes from the rafters and the walls and falls on their frenzied minds. Uncountable faces gaze up at him in looks ranging from sheepishness to apprehension to outright defiance. The last is on the face of each of the brawlers, who stand silent at his command even as their expressions beg for the chance to defend their causes.

Louis’ eyes flick right past Tucker- whatever he has to say is probably annoying and irrelevant anyway. Instead, he looks at Liam, hard. “Payne, what the fuck was that about? First off you’re a cop. Second off, you’re a bloody  _ guest _ here. What’s with the punches?”

The cool gaze Liam gives him in return is unapologetic and unwavering. “He called Niall a ‘weak little faggot.’”

Everyone holds their breath for a long, tense moment, waiting for judgement to be passed. It is done so quietly, with a simple, “No more fist fights in my house, is everyone clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” choruses the room. Those who don’t feel brave enough to speak at least nod or duck their heads in contrition- except Tucker. Naturally.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” spits the offending thief. “You can’t just let some outsider come in here and let him throw punches at us-”

“First of all,” Louis answers with both fire and ice in his voice, “I am your King and I make the rules so I  _ can _ do that, and whatever the fuck I want. Second, you should take care to watch your tone, because I’ve had enough of your piss-poor attitude and your grace as one of my subjects is about to run out. And third…” Louis makes sure Tucker is looking straight at him so that his words are sure to penetrate that incredibly thick skull. “If he hadn’t punched you for that, I would have. So keep your fucking opinions to yourself. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Maybe he would have tried to say something, but Tucker never got the chance. Louis has already pushed his way through the crowd and back up the stairs to the office like that was that and nothing else that could be said on the matter was of any importance. He still watches from between the slats of the blinds as people start drifting back to their various activities. 

It isn’t until Tucker has zipped himself into his tent with a scowl that Louis allows himself to fully exhale. For tonight, at least, the drama is over. Tomorrow held no guarantees, but at least they’re safe tonight.

………………… 

“Stand back, let Styles through,” Louis hisses at the hoodie-clad muscleman standing stupidly right in front of the safe when he should have been figuring how to unmount the flatscreen from the wall. Harry, Louis, and ten other thieves were sneaking around the investment firm offices in an operation Louis insisted on calling “Ocean’s Twelve.” Not that it’s anything near as complex as its namesake; mostly this is just a dozen of the crew hitting a place hard and fast and taking them for all they had.

This one is special, though. This isn’t like every other Ocean’s Twelve Louis has coordinated, because this is also the debut of his secret weapon: Harry.

There had been quite the uproar when Louis had listed the thieves that would be going on this op- the king was risking his own ass to go, and for god’s sake  _ Styles _ was on it. “If anyone has a problem with the decisions I’m making as King, then you’re absolutely welcome to find a new crew,” Louis said with a series of lazy, uninterested blinks. “Any takers? No? Then trust me to do what I do best. Now all of you lot, to the cars pronto.”

The plan is simple: Niall disables the security system, two guys distract the guards, one stands watch in the parking lot for approaching sirens in case something went wrong, and the six best musclemen in the crew take everything in sight. No one is shy about cleaning out a place like this, where every lavish surface absolutely screams “more money than sense.”

Which leaves the king and his largely useless protégé, Harry too clumsy to be trusted carrying expensive items and Louis rather too slight to be of much help. That isn’t important though, because it isn’t towards the artwork or the electronics that they’re making a beeline.

“How did you even know this was here?” Harry breathes, looking at the large safe built into the wall of the CEO’s office. “They can’t have advertised that this was here.”

“Of course not. You don’t get to be as rich as these blokes are without being smart. But I know a guy who dated a guy who shared a cell with a guy who used to work here, and I may have gotten my hands on some blueprints that I wasn’t meant to see. Thought it might be right up your alley.”

Harry takes in Louis’ grin and almost returns it, except that there’s still a little unsurety in his eyes. “I’ve never cracked a safe this big before,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah, well, first time for everything. I have faith in you, baby,” Louis adds, quieter, and plants a kiss on those unceasingly pouty lips. “I know you can do it. Make me proud, yeah?”

Three minutes later everyone’s out of the building, the back of one van loaded with artwork and cash and computers… and several armfuls of gold bars from the CEO’s safe.

Not a single person on the team is anything less than euphoric as they return to the den, loot stashed away and faces flushed with victory. “Did you see the size of that haul?” Niall crows, grabbing some random girl and spinning her around as part of his bone-crushing hug. “That has to be the single best job we’ve ever done. Jesus Christ!”

“Ace job with the cams,” Louis grins. “We’d be lost without you, no fucking doubt.”

“Yeah, well- Styles is the MVP tonight!”

Heads turned in confusion all around the den as Niall’s overloud voice carries the surprising words to the far reaches of the crew. “That’s right, all you nay-sayers,” Louis calls smugly. “Styles was the key tonight. The same Styles that you tried to fuck with me for inviting along. He cracked the safe and got us fucking- what, about seventy-five percent of the haul, do you think? He’s made us hundreds of thousands of pounds tonight.”

Meanwhile Harry is standing off to the side getting redder and redder as Louis continues to smirk his way through the entire tale. “Get over here, Harry,” he concludes, gesturing him over. “Give us a bow, then.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Harry laughs as he bows from the waist.

“Are you being cheeky with me?” asks Louis in delight. “Well in that case, give me a kiss, too.” And without further ado, he’s dragging Harry over by the belt loops and pressing their mouths together in a warm kiss that tastes undeniably like victory.

There’s a single second of stunned silence and then the den erupts into a mixture of cheers and catcalls. Louis just keeps right on kissing him, because they had maybe just made the biggest score of his career and it was all because of Harry and it isn’t like they were a well-kept secret anyways so who the fuck cares if people knew?

“Thanks for the forewarning,” Harry says breathily when they pull apart, but he’s too busy grinning to pull of an irritated tone.

A young, female voice from the back of the crowd cooed in delight and called, “Aww, look! The king’s so proud of his boyfriend. I think I’m melting!”

Most people laugh their assent, but a short Filipino boy does not. “Don’t assume,” he says haughtily. “Just because they kiss- or fuck every time they get half a chance- doesn’t mean that’s the king’s  _ boyfriend.” _

“What are you talking about?” Louis snorts, hands still tethering Harry’s hips close to him. “Of course he’s my boyfriend. And  _ you  _ can all fuck off about my sex life!”

It’s the first time they’ve ever discussed the word and the tears in Harry’s eyes indicate he’s definitely about to say something sappy and sentimental, but there’s only so much mushy gushy shit Louis can handle in one day. So he captures Harry’s mouth in his own again and enjoys the silence instead.

………………… 

Harry’s in a significant amount of disarray at the moment, naked and flushed beneath Louis on the couch in the office, but even past the sheen of sweat plastering his wild curls to his skin the desperation in his eyes is clear. “Louis, please, I’m literally begging you.”

“Begging me for what, Hazza?” replies Louis, entirely too innocent. “You specifically asked to have my cock inside of you. Have I not delivered?”

“Come on, please, I’m serious,” Harry whines. “Can you fuck me properly already?”

Louis puts a moderate amount of effort into hiding his amusement as he continues to barely move his hips, moving just the tip of his cock in and out of Harry in what has to be an infuriatingly teasing way- which of course is just what he’s going for. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to use your grown-up words. What is it that you want, baby?”

“More than just the tip,” pants Harry.

“Oh, I see, you want me deeper? Well you should have just asked!” Louis rocks a little harder, pushing a few centimeters deeper before pulling back out and repeating. “There, that better?”

“Louis, I’m not fucking around!” Harry reaches up and grabs Louis’ face between his hands and holds it tightly. “This is cute and fun and all but I’m desperate here.”

With that, all movements ceased, much to Harry’s chagrin. “I’m the king, Styles,” Louis says wickedly, “and you’re just one of my subjects. Ask me kindly and I might just give you what you wish…”

Harry’s eyes light up with mischief of his own. “I want you to use the entirety of your cock to fuck me as hard and as deep as you can, Your Majesty.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Louis smugly replies, even though it isn’t heard very well over the shouts Harry gives when suddenly Louis is ramming into him until hipbones meet the backs of thighs with a satisfying smack of skin. “There we go. That what you needed, baby?”

The only response he gets is a moan and the sound of seams ripping as Harry grips the couch hard enough to tear a hole in the slipcover. He’s still leaving hickeys on Harry’s chest in an attempt to get him to use actual words -really, is there anything hotter than that breathy voice saying his name?- when the office door flies open and hits the wall with a crack.

Zayn and Louis stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment, made even more uncomfortable by the fact that Louis has not faltered at all in the way he’s pounding into Harry. “Can I help you, Z?” he asks calmly as Harry attempts to keep his eyes from fluttering shut so that he can take in the scene.

“Put your pants on, now,” Zayn says shortly.

“I most certainly will not! I’m busy, if you hadn’t noticed, so you can show yourself out, thanks-”

But then Louis catches sight of the look on his best friend’s face, and if he isn’t mistaken, that’s- fear? “Zayn, what’s wrong?” he asks, quieter, more urgent. He pulls out and is stumbling to where he discarded his pants before Harry can even register his loss. “What’s going on?”

“Raid.”

“Fucking hell,” Louis groans, picking up Harry’s jeans and tossing those to him as he tries to redress as quickly as he can. He spares the time to kiss Harry sweetly on the lips though. “Sorry to have to leave business unfinished, but-”

“More important things, no, I understand,” Harry says quickly, zipping up his fly and searching for his top. “Is this normal? What do we- why are they raiding?”

“Drugs,” states a voice in the doorway, which Louis turns and sees belongs to Liam. “I need everyone to keep their hands where I can see them. We have a warrant to search the premises for illegal substances. I need to speak to the owner of this property, a Mr. Louis Tomlinson?”

“That’s me,” Louis answers in just as formal of a tone, since he can see the other officers lingering behind him. “This is fucking ridiculous, though. Drugs? Seriously? Where the fuck do you even get your information on this sort of-”

“Our sources are confidential, Mr. Tomlinson.”

_ Of course they are. _ They have to be bullshit, though, because Louis has done all manner of bad things in his life ranging from morally grey to universally illegal but the one thing that he has never messed with is drugs. Nor will he ever. Maybe it’s the thought of all the little siblings he left behind in Doncaster, but just the idea of putting drugs into the hands of kids is enough to make Louis’ blood boil.

But just like every raid, there’s nothing Louis can do but sit back and hope that his instructions to never keep stolen property in the den had been followed and that all of his crew will still be in their own beds tonight instead of a hard cot in lockup.

Maybe the spaces behind those bars are where Harry’s head is at, too, because he’s looking at Louis with enough fear and trust to break a heart. All Louis wants is to wrap his arms around him and kiss his temples until he’s happy, but he settles for doing what he can.

“A word to the wise,” he announces to the room with a flirty little wink, “if you have to pat us down, you might want to wait a minute. Could get awkward. You see, you came in just as I was doing something  _ exceptionally _ handsome.”

Harry smiles a tiny bit, so Louis counts that as a win.

They find nothing, of course- not the drugs they came for and, mercifully, not a single piece of stolen merchandise. That doesn’t mean they escape unscathed, however, because when the cops leave and Louis opens the office blinds to look down on the den below, all he can see is wreckage. There must have been dozens of cops in here, to have come through and caused such utter destruction in such a short amount of time.

“We need to get to the fucking bottom of this,” he says to Zayn, like his knight doesn’t know that already. “I want to know where that information came from, ASAP. Get Niall on it right now.”

Zayn doesn’t state the obvious  _ -something isn’t right, here- _ just hurries off to uncover the truth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis' gonna get his revenge. Just you wait....
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: blah blah usual inappropriate things you know the drill..... Niam this time btw ;)

The crew has a hard time getting back on kilter after that. Everyone is still jumpy, unsure, like they’re bracing for impact. They get a little calmer when Louis or Zayn is right there caring for them, though, like all they need is a gentle touch and a kind word to remind them what normal feels like.

Louis can’t be everywhere at once- he’s tried for years and it simply is not possible- but he tries to be in those tumultuous next few days. It feels like he isn’t breathing in between every job that he goes to watch over, there are so many, but then again this _is_ one of the most extensive thief networks in Europe. The numbers are deceivingly small. It’s when Louis sees it in action that he starts to understand just what kind of operation he’s running.

It’s a neverending task that Louis is nonetheless happy to do, this casual supervision. If he can show up and stand off to the side and make his people feel better just knowing that their king is nearby, why wouldn’t he? Zayn tries to go to the ones Louis can’t, if only for the weekend.

Currently Louis is on the patio seating of a local bar, sipping a beer and pretending to be looking at his phone so that no one will follow his eyes and possibly catch sight of the robbery-in-progress across the street. It’s almost undetectable; he’d dressed the crew up in business casual, so that no one would take overmuch interest in them walking around an office building. Scruffy men in black ski masks warranted phone calls to police departments, but women in pencil skirts and men in ties? Not so much.

The other bar patrons party on undisturbed and Louis orders another beer, every so often letting his eyes flick up and scan the street for signs of trouble. No flashing lights, no suspicious activity, no panicked pedestrians to be seen. Everything appears to be going exactly according to plan.

It’s probably a good thing that Louis has a lifetime of criminal behavior to give him plenty of experience paying attention to police activity. A lesser thief might not have noticed the way that there are police cars approaching from all directions with no lights or sirens on. You could almost miss them, except that police cars are the subject of enough of Louis’ nightmares that they _never_ escape his notice.

His phone is to his ear in a second dialing Nick, the one in charge of this particular op. Nick answers immediately, much to Louis’ relief. He doesn’t wait to be greeted- there’s no time. “You need to leave immediately,” Louis says under his breath as quickly as he can. “Like five minutes ago fast. Get the fuck out.”

He doesn’t wait for a response either, just ends the call and throws a couple of notes on the table for his drinks. The fire escape leading from the balcony patio to the alley alongside the bar probably isn’t the route they intended him to take upon leaving, but if Louis doesn’t peel out fast he’s going to get stuck in this area and arrested upon sight. The cops aren’t idiots _all_ the time. They’d arrest anyone with a criminal record within five hundred meters if they made this bust.

The sirens kick in right after Louis slips away, and he makes a concerted effort not to turn back and find a nice vantage point to watch it all happen. _Be smart, Louis,_ he instructs himself over the pounding of his heart. _Be calm. Go where you’re most useful._

Zayn takes three rings to answer the phone, and it isn’t fast enough for Louis’ liking. “Yo?”

“We’ve got big trouble. Cops showed up at the job.”

“Shit. But we had the plans, we cased that for like, forever-”

“I know. They rolled in with no lights or sirens, which means it was either a sting or a tip-off. Any chance Liam is around?”

There are some shuffling noises, then a muffled bark of, “Payne! Get up here, now.” Louis would have liked to see the look on Zayn’s face. It must have been something fierce, because their perpetually present non-employee is taking the phone less than thirty seconds later.

He must have run up the stairs, too, because he’s breathing heavily when he answers. “Um- hello?”

“It’s Rogue. My boys just got busted and I need to know everything you know.”

“Busted? Doing what?”

“Picking flowers. What do you think? No lights, no sirens until they were right on top of the place. So that means-”

“It wasn’t an emergency call.” Liam sighs. “It wasn’t a sting either, I’d know. The entire force gets a heads up beforehand, so there’s no accidental interference.”

“So what the fuck’s going on, then?”

“Anonymous tip, I’d say. They knew for sure what was going down and didn’t want to alert anybody to their presence.”

“Fuck.” Louis slams his hand against the steering wheel hard, his shout loud enough that the woman in the car next to him at the stoplight gives him a nervous glance. “Fuck. Okay. Well, Put Zayn back on.”

“Did anybody get out?” Zayn asks quietly a minute later.

“I couldn’t stick around to see. But I called Nick as soon as I saw. We’ll just… fuck. We’ll have to see who comes home tonight.”

“They’re smart kids. They know to scatter. The cops can’t have caught all of them.”

Louis doesn’t really have the heart to tell him how many cop cars were there, or how there was maybe just over 60 seconds from the time they got the tip to the time they would have been surrounded and penned in. “I’m right around the corner,” he says instead. “I’ll be right up.”

He doesn’t want to see the anxious faces of his crew just now- he doesn’t have the fortitude to pretend he isn’t anxious himself- so he takes the back stairs and emerges right into the office to find Zayn and Liam sitting around looking solemn. “Get outta here, Payne,” he says without greeting. “They might follow someone back here and you’re going to be in deep shit if they find you here.”

Liam winces, but stands, eyes trained on the floor. “Right. I’ll be off then. Good luck. And um- sorry. About your kids and all. Wish I could help.”

“Don’t apologize, mate, that’s just the way this life goes,” replies Louis, which is a lot fairer than he feels like being. He knows it’s true of course; sometimes thieves get arrested when they steal things. He knew it when he got into this life, and so did the rest of this crew. It’s just the idea of anyone under his care in a jail cell somewhere that drives him absolutely insane.

Then it’s just him and Zayn, the latter of whom lasts about two minutes before he goes to the stairs and sits to wait for people to start making their way home. After about fifteen minutes, he pops his head in to give the first few names of escapees. Louis feels a little better, but not much. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to breathe properly until he’s heard every single name.

The next time the door opens, it’s a different face appearing before him. “Hazza,” Louis sighs in response to green eyes and dark curls. “I’m so fucking glad to see you. Come here.”

Harry knows his place; he comes over to the couch where Louis is siting and crawls right into his lap, his knees straddling Louis’ hips and his arms wound around those slumped shoulders. “You okay?” he murmurs.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a nervous wreck.” Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and tugs him closer, burying his face into Harry’s chest. “How did they know? Who would have tipped them off? If someone was careless and people end up hurt or in jail, that’s _my_ fault.”

“No, it’s not,” soothes Harry. “You do everything you can to protect your people.”

“They’re still my responsibility. The system failed somewhere and the system is my responsibility.”

“What do you need me to do?” Harry asks after a pause. “How can I help? Kiss you? Touch you? We could tell Zayn not to come back in for a few minutes-”

“No, no. I don’t need that. Just- stay here, yeah? Just let me hold you?”

Harry never answers him out loud, but he does cradle the back of Louis’ head to hold it there on his chest. Harry will be his safe place as long as he needs one.

Zayn keeps popping in from time to time over the course of the night, each time announcing a name and how many left unaccounted for. At some point Louis’ lap goes numb, so Harry lays down on the couch and pulls Louis on top of him. He’s curled up on Harry’s chest in a way that makes him look more like a child than an infamous con artist, but Harry doesn’t say anything. He just keeps running soothing trails up and down Louis’ spine as they wait it out.

They’re down to just one man unaccounted for. This one seems to take forever, and Harry switches to just squeezing Louis tight against him. He can feel every tense muscle in that slender frame. Harry has spent too much time in valleys to believe in gods on mountaintops, but he puts a little prayer out to the universe anyway that everyone comes home tonight.

Finally, around ten in the morning, Zayn comes in again. Louis lifts his head off Harry’s chest with a hopeful expression which quickly turned to relief as Zayn nodded. “Carl made it home. He had to hide under some trash in an alley and wait for the cops to clear out. He’s the last one. We got them all back.”

He’s gone again just as quick, and Louis and Harry sit up together. Harry watches carefully as Louis takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Feel better?”

“Fuck. Yeah. Sorry to have used you like a teddy bear slash pillow all night,” Louis murmurs. “I just hate not knowing. Not being able to help at all.”

“You treat me like a queen the rest of the time, you can treat me like a pillow when you need one,” answers Harry. “I like cuddling anyways.”

“You’re good at it.” Louis leans over and kisses Harry softly on the mouth. “Thank you anyways.”

“I’m glad everyone is safe.”

“Will you come home with me? I’m tired.”

Harry gives him that wide-eyed expression that Louis knows means _yes, of course, always._

…………………

It had taken Liam less time than he’d expected to persuade Niall into the back of his patrol car. “No funny business, I promise,” he’d assured the young thief. “I’m not going to arrest you or make a move on you. We could just have a nap before my shift, yeah?”

“I’ll be going to bed in a couple of hours, napping would be dumb,” Niall mumbles, but he climbs in readily enough. Liam is lying down with one leg up on the bench seat and one down in the floor, his arms forming a pillow beneath his head. “Well that’s an inviting pose,” remarks Niall as he shuts the door behind him.

“Put me where you want me,” is Liam’s easy reply.

“There’s good! That way I can lay like this-” Niall folds his legs up behind him and lays so that his torso is pressed against Liam’s- “and kiss you like this.” He’s got a soft mouth on Liam’s, running his teeth along that bottom lip until Liam sighs with happiness and moved his hands so he could hold gently onto Niall’s waist. Everything is so cozy and warm and he can feel that slick tease of Niall’s tongue over his own-

“I'm not trying to say this in a cheesy way, but is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?” Niall asks with a grin a few minutes later. “Seriously, I need an answer. I'm a little worried about getting shot in the crotch.”

Liam chuckles briefly into Niall's mouth before returning to kissing him. “My gun is in the front seat,” he finally murmurs.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Niall shifts his hips a little, then snakes his hand down Liam's chest and rubs across the hardening bulge in the front of his uniform.

He's barely applying any pressure, but it still makes Liam lean into the kiss with a new ferocity. “Sorry, sorry,” he says as soon as he catches himself getting rougher in the way his lips moved against Niall's. “I’m fine. I’m not getting worked up.”

“Why be sorry?” Niall questions with a laugh. “Why not get worked up?”

“Because it took me months and months to get you here so I’m not interested in scaring you off just because I’m horny and you’re goddamn hot.” His voice is even and controlled. Apparently the discipline the police academy taught him _is_ good for something, even if it’s making sure your criminal boyfriend remains your boyfriend.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t enjoying it, though, when Niall starts grinding against him slowly, the hipbones Liam has always admired whenever Niall’s shirt rides up now pressing against his cock in a delightfully unsatisfying way. It’s just that he’s controlled enough not to grab Niall by the hips and buck up into the friction, however much he craves the sensation.

He’s definitely getting harder, and unless he’s mistaken he can feel Niall getting half-hard in his shorts as well. One hand on the curve of that waist twitches a little, reflexively, as Liam has to actively fight the desire to slip his hand beneath the jersey and the cotton and touch Niall. _You don’t set the pace,_ Liam reminds himself with a shudder as the heel of Niall’s palm massages the base of his cock through too many layers of fabric. _You behave and you let Niall take only as much as he wants._

Which, as it turns out, is definitely more than he’s getting. “What do I have to do to get you to touch me?” Niall huffs as he sits back, tugging his sides free of Liam’s hands and taking away all of the lovely friction.

“I’m just taking it slow, is all,” Liam answers, a little defensively. “I know it took you a long time to warm up to me, so I don’t want you to think that just because we’re a thing now that I expect you to be instantly up for- you know. Stuff. Just cause I am doesn’t mean you are, and I’m absolutely okay with that.”

“Tell me about this ‘stuff’ you’re up for.”

“Wh-what?” It’s a little hard for Liam to concentrate on decoding conversations when Niall’s unbuttoning the front of his uniform shirt and tugging up the tee shirt beneath so he can run his soft hands over the skin of Liam’s stomach just above his belt.

“Tell me what you want to do to me. Tell me this ‘stuff’ that you’re so patiently waiting for me to want, too.”

The blonde is back to laying on top of him, no longer grinding but letting the weight of his hips rest atop Liam’s needy ones while he nuzzles at his helpless victim’s neck. Liam swallows, hard. “Jesus, okay. I, um- I want to blow you, taste your cum. And I want to get inside of you. Feel you around me. Jesus.”

Niall starts nipping at the place where Liam’s throat meets the curve of his jaw. “Maybe you should stop worrying about giving me reasons to leave and start giving me reasons to stay.”

“You’re a lot smarter than me,” Liam answers with great difficulty, because Niall’s lips are kissing at the soft skin of his throat in a way that’s making his cock start to throb, “and I’m really more brawn than brains, so I’m going to need you to spell that out for me in really small words.”

The smile is clear on Niall’s face as he kisses Liam’s ear and whispers, “Fuck me.”

“Here? In the car?” Liam asks in surprise, eyes flying wide open. He doesn’t need an answer though, not really, because his belt is already unfastened and Niall’s pulling his pants down to his thighs so he can wrap a hand around Liam’s cock and he isn’t holding back this time as he bucks up into the feel of it. “Okay, so in the car. Got it. _Fuck.”_

“You’re so fucking hard already,” Niall says delightedly, licking his lips.

“What about you?” Liam countered, and forgets to be nervous as he palms the front of Niall’s shorts. Still only half-hard. “Up, sit up,” he instructs at once, sitting up himself as Niall struggles to get his limbs out of the way in the small space. Liam switches himself around so he’s sitting upright and leaning back against the seat in the middle. “Sit in my lap.”

Niall does as he’s told, straddling Liam’s hips and letting his hands come to rest on his broad shoulders. There isn’t quite enough space to straighten up completely, so he winds up hunching his shoulders and bringing his mouth down to collide with Liam’s once more.

That’s fine with the older boy; he’s just interested in sliding Niall’s boxers as far down his thighs as he can manage. He wants to see him completely bare before him, to take in the details of the body he’s been dreaming about, but it’s too dark out for him to see more than blurry outlines and shadowy curves.

He settles instead for taking Niall’s cock into his hand, eyes fluttering shut with a sigh as he hears Niall start to moan. He’s all the way hard now, rocking up a little into Liam’s hand. Liam takes this as encouragement and starts working his wrist faster, swiping his thumb over the tip every time he strokes up until Niall’s digging his nails into the uniform shirt and making whiny little exhales with every dragging touch.

Finally Niall’s hand snaps down and wraps around Liam’s wrist so tightly that he instinctively knows to freeze. For a long moment neither moves, neither breathes, until finally Niall lets out a shaky exhale. “Shit, almost came. Give me a minute.”

Obediently Liam unfurls his fingers and lets Niall’s cock go untouched between them. The dim light from the streetlight outside was enough so that when he cranes his head to look at Niall’s face, still awkwardly bent into the crook of Liam’s neck, he can see that Niall’s got his eyes closed, forcibly slow breaths dragging in and out of well-bitten lips.

“I’m not sure I tell you often enough how gorgeous you are,” Liam murmurs, running his hands over what little of Niall’s body was exposed in the frenzied half-undressing. Niall doesn’t answer, still trying to work himself down from his near-high. It’s a shame, really, to see him trying to feel _less_ instead of letting Liam make him feel it all, and it’s enough to make him reach up and nudge two fingers into Niall’s open mouth. “Suck.”

Niall does so without question, without even opening his eyes. It’s only when his mouth is free again that he asks, “What was that for?”

“What do you think?” Liam replies as he reaches between Niall’s thighs and starts to nudge one finger inside of him.

 _That_ makes Niall’s eyes fly open. “Give me two, please?”

Liam raises an eyebrow both at the request and at the needy, breathy voice that it’s delivered in. “Right off the bat? You don’t want me to work up to that, or-?”

“I like the stretch. please?”

He kisses Liam softly and the gentle slide of lips and tongues makes it feel alright to push a second finger in beside the first. He’s so tight it’s a little uncomfortable for Liam’s fingers, let alone what Niall must be feeling. But the boy on his lap is taking it like a champ, lifting one hand to brace himself on the ceiling of the car while the other holds onto Liam’s shirt.

Building up a steady rhythm of thrusts with his hand, Liam half expects Niall to start fucking himself down on the fingers, the way he twitches and moans every time they’re all the way inside of him. He doesn’t though, just lets Liam take control with nothing more than a stern, “I’m still close, so don’t hit the spot yet. Okay?”

“What spot? Oh, you mean _this_ spot?” Liam says a little wickedly as he rubs his fingertips hard over precisely that spot. He’s quickly discovering that Niall isn’t very good at talking when he’s being properly stimulated, except little grunts and gasps and maybe the occasional expletive. He keeps mercilessly hitting Niall’s prostate with every flex of his wrist, wondering if he keeps picking up the pace then the sound of Niall’s hand banging against the roof will speed up, too-

But there are obviously still some things that Liam has yet to learn about Niall’s body , because he’s completely caught off guard when all of a sudden Niall’s hands are scrambling to pull up Liam’s tee shirt and he’s coming all over Liam’s recently exposed torso. Only now does he move his own hips, chasing the exact sensation he needs to get through this high. Liam just watches and smiles.

“Fuck you,” Niall pants when he can. “I told you not to do that. I _told_ you I was close!”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Liam says smugly.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. You’re lucky I had time to get your fucking uniform out of the way before I came.” Niall is still heaving for air as he pulls himself awkwardly off of Liam’s fingers and collapses on the seat leaned up against the door. His shorts are almost all of the way off now, looped around one ankle of the legs sprawled across Liam’s lap. “I can’t believe you did that. I didn’t ask for a hand job, I asked to be fucked.”

“Who is this needy boy and where is the Niall Horan who stonewalled me for months on end?” teases Liam.

“Yeah, well, he hadn’t seen your cock.” Suddenly it’s the swollen elephant in the vehicle, sitting nearly untouched but clearly needy. Niall blushes. “Can I give you a blow job?”

“You could,” Liam hedges, sliding the shorts the rest of the way off Niall’s leg with gentle fingers that left goosebump trails on his skin. “But I was actually thinking that maybe hand jobs versus getting fucked doesn’t have to be an either/or thing.”

“I’m smarter than you,” answers Niall with a glimmer in his eye, “and I’m more brains than brawn. But I’m a little blissed out so I’m gonna need you to spell that out for me in smaller words.”

Liam takes one hand, swipes it across the mess on his stomach and wraps his now-slick palm around his cock to start working it up and down. “I want to fuck you.”

“Might not come again,” Niall warns, but the bite of his lip is excited rather than nervous. “Came a lot last time.”

“Yeah, I noticed that. Who knew the great and mighty Ireland’s Most Wanted star and world-renowned hacker would be brought down by a couple of fingers? Teasing, teasing,” Liam laughs when Niall scowls and moves to pick up his shorts. He bats the cloth out of Niall’s hands and maneuvers the both of them so that Niall is laying on his back and Liam is slotted between his thighs. With some effort he manages to get his pants off without any injuries, and then sets to work kissing all over the smooth, pale skin of Niall’s torso, illuminated so beautifully in the shitty, flickering streetlight glow.

Reality digs in like a thorn in the side. “Fuck, do you have a condom? I don’t,” Liam frets, mind racing over the contents of his glove box and the contents of the gym bag in his trunk to no avail.

“Don’t worry about it,” Niall shrugs. “If it doesn’t bother you it doesn’t bother me. We’re both slaves to the criminal justice system, we know we’re both clean,” he grins. “So just promise me that if you get me pregnant, you’ll swear to support our baby-”

“You’re such an obnoxious twat sometimes, you know that?” Liam says, and kisses him hard.

He presses in gently at first, careful to keep enough distance between their bodies that Niall’s cock won’t get too much stimulation too fast, but when legs wrap around his waist and pull him in deeper Liam is helpless to resist. He picks up the pace a bit, embracing the sound of skin meeting skin with the force of months of pent-up sexual energy.

The slick of Niall’s cum isn’t proper lube, doesn’t quite allow him to slide in and out of the boy as smoothly as he’d like, but it’ll do. There’s friction still, which can’t have been ideal for the beautiful mess beneath him but which feels incredible on his patient cock. The faster he moves the higher he can feel his pleasure getting, by tiny degrees, as Niall wriggles and clenches and grunts below him.

It’s easy enough to tell when Niall starts to get hard again, because the noises go up an octave and he’s spreading his legs as wide as the space allows  to give Liam better access. One foot goes to brace against the cage separating the front and back seats, while the other attempts to find purchase on the roof of the cruiser. “Touch me,” he pants into the hot air. “Touch my cock. I think I can come again if you touch me.”

“Well that’s just a bit greedy, isn’t it?” Liam murmurs, biting back a smile. “You’ve already come once and you want me to make you come again before I’ve even gotten off myself.”

“I’m not kidding,” Niall huffs. “Fuck, you- you feel so good- ah! Liam, I’m begging you, please fucking -ah!- touch me!”

Apparently Liam’s found the right angle so he continues to hit it, watching Niall’s face get redder and redder as his cock gets more swollen between them. His back starts to arch a little as his pleasure kicks up a notch, and Liam slips his arm beneath the boys back to hold them close together. He’s getting close, very close, the heat coming off of Niall’s skin and the moans falling out of his mouth every time Liam murmurs compliments to him like a drug making him dig his hips in deeper and deeper.

It’s definitely a race of some sort between them, though whether it’s who can get there first or who can stay away longer Liam is too far gone to care to know.

…………………

It’s barely three in the morning, but Louis doesn’t let himself feel too ashamed as he takes off early and sneaks around the back of the warehouse so that no one will see him and think they get the morning off, too. Not that anyone would blame him. In the two days since the busted heist, things have not been easy on the king and if he needed some extra sleep, no one was going to deny him that.

He gets cranky when he’s overtired anyways; it’s _definitely_ best to let him sleep.

Louis recognizes Liam’s squad car as soon as he rounds the corner. Of all the police vehicles in London, he knows this one best, from the specific tilt of the sticker on the side to the little dent in the hood. It’s practically a fixture around the warehouse now, since Niall had quit with the playing hard to get and let Liam come see him whenever he wanted. Which, as it turned out, was pretty much whenever he wasn’t on duty.

What’s new, however, is the way that the car is not parked quietly out of sight this time. The one flickering light back there gives just enough illumination for Louis to see that the car is rocking side to side, and through the fog on the windows he can just make out a pale leg with one socked foot braced against the roof on the inside of the backseat.

“You dirty bastards have to be kidding me,” Louis grins, and as he closes the few yards between him and the squad car he can hear voices coming from inside. There’s a low, quiet murmuring and a much louder, much more desperate string of pleas that sounds a lot like _Liam, fuck, please, touch me-_

It feels just the tiniest bit cruel, but Louis has an empire to run so he doesn’t really have any other option except to tap on the glass and interrupt. Everything goes immediately quiet and still, and then there’s a throat being cleared and Liam calls a slightly hoarse, “Yes?”

“Officer Payne, may I see you outside for a moment?” Louis says cheerfully, and he probably is savoring the moment a little too much.

It takes a long couple of minutes of shuffling and fabric rustling before Liam emerges from the backseat looking flushed and sweaty and moderately mortified. His shirt isn’t buttoned properly and he’s not wearing any shoes. He doesn’t look Louis in the eye. “Um. It’s not what it looks like?”

“Yeah, and I’m an upstanding citizen.”

“If this is about me interrupting you and Harry last week,” Liam starts with a deepening flush, “you know I didn’t have any choice-”

“It’s all business, no pleasure, I promise.” Louis pretends he doesn’t notice the way Liam is shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and still keeping his face turned to the ground. “I need your help with something. I’ve seen on the news that the investigation on that bust is still going on. Do they have anything on us?”

“It’s not my department,” Liam says mournfully. “That’s with the detectives now.”

Louis nods thoughtfully. “Right, of course. Well, can you ask around? Maybe see if you can get any info for me? If I need to be making moves I need to be making them now, not after detectives are knocking on my door.”

“Absolutely,” answers Liam at once. “I’ll get on that. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything.”

“There’s a good lad. Alright, you’re dismissed!” Louis starts to back away, smirking at how quickly Liam is turned around opening up the door to the backseat once more. “Oh, Payne, one more thing.”

“Yes?” Liam says, with a little desperation in his eyes.

Louis grins from ear to ear. “For god’s sake, give the poor lad what he’s begging for. He’s one of my best, can’t have him coming in tomorrow all pouty. Understood?”

Liam grins back for the first time in the conversation. “Well, if His Majesty insists.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHAPTERS EVER OF ANYTHING I FEEL THAT NIAM SCENE DEEP IN MY SOUL
> 
> Also sorry for a late posting today I just moved into my own flat and I don't have wifi yet :'(
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	10. Chapter 10

It’s less than twelve hours later when they get the news. One of their best guys is in lock-up, though not, surprisingly, for the busted job. It was a solo B&E, despite the fact that the man now behind bars is infamous for his skill at breaking and entering. Louis can’t quite believe what he’s hearing when Zayn passes on the news as soon as he and Harry shuffle in that evening. “Pierre? You’re _positive_ it’s _our_ Pierre?”

“Yes, Rogue, he called me personally from the prison,” Zayn confirms with a grim face. “He says they’ve got him pretty solid.”

It just doesn’t sit right with Louis, though, no matter how hard he tries to wrap his head around it. “This doesn’t sit right with me,” he says, “no matter how hard- when has Pierre _ever_ been sloppy about his work?”

“Never, up until now.”

“Did they catch him in the act, or-?”

“That’s- that’s the weird thing,” Zayn says slowly, nervousness clear in his eyes. “They found his hoodie at the scene. Apparently the damage at the house was bad enough that the owners paid for them to run DNA on some hair found inside of it. That’s how they got it.”

“Pierre,” Louis groans, rubbing his hands over his face in a tired fashion. “How could you be so careless?”

“Louis, he _swears_ he didn’t wear a hoodie to the job.”

“Well obviously he did, if they found it at the scene of the crime.” Louis keeps turning it over and over in his head. It isn’t all that extraordinary in and of itself- thieves get caught all the time. It’s just for this particular thief to get caught in this particular way is so unprecedented. He feels like there’s some piece of the puzzle missing here. “There’s no other possible explanation here, right?” he asks of Zayn, just to check that he’s losing his mind.

It takes Zayn a long time to answer. “What if there was another answer? But it was kind of crazy?”

“I’d want to hear it.” Louis isn’t sure he does, entirely, but he’s sure he needs to.

“Weird shit’s been happening. The raid for drugs, thanks to an anonymous tip. The job across town getting busted, because someone made an anonymous tip.” Zayn waits until Louis looks up at him to continue with a hard swallow. “And now they’re finding evidence that could only have been left there by Pierre or- or someone who had access to his stuff.”

“You can’t mean what I think you mean,” Louis mumbles, his stomach sinking. “This crew is a good crew. They wouldn’t do that, they wouldn’t violate the code to-”

To commit treason. That’s what neither of them want to say out loud, and what both of them mean. All of the signs are pointing to one thing: a rat in the family, someone selling secrets and planting evidence and crumbling the empire bit by bit.

Louis is about to lie through his teeth that this _can’t_ be the case, half to convince Zayn and half to convince himself, but Zayn’s attention is suddenly elsewhere, his head cocked and eyes on the wall of windows. “It’s quiet.”

They move at once to look out into the den, because there are hundreds of thieves milling around down there and if it’s quiet, it’s trouble. When they got the the windows, they saw a warehouse full of miscreants all sitting around quietly, like they’re having some sort of meeting. “What’s all this?” Louis asks. Zayn just shook his head. “Let’s go have a looksee, eh, Z?”

All heads swivel to take in the two leaders as they descend the staircase into the den. Their faces are all dark and wary. “What’s everyone looking at, then?” Louis calls with false cheerfulness. “I know you can’t be staring at Zayn’s ugly mug.”

“Just having a talk,” someone replies calmly, and of course it’s goddamn Tucker.

“Oh? What are we talking about, then?” Louis strolls over and plops down on the arm of one of the couches, hands stuffed in his pockets and one leg dangling casually over the side. His posture may be boyish, but his voice demands obedience. “Out with it. I love a chat.”

“It’s all the stuff that’s been happening lately,” supplies a young pickpocket named Marianne. “We were thinking that maybe- that maybe someone in the crew is a traitor.”

Zayn’s eyes flick up and meet Louis’. Obviously they weren’t the only ones catching on to the trouble stirring in the crew. Louis’ heart skips a little beat as he scrambles for the right way to handle this situation.

“That’s a possibility,” he says after a pause. “But I don’t want anyone getting worked up about this, because we have absolutely no evidence. Sometimes bad things just happen-”

“We think it was you.”

Several long moments pass as Louis blinks in surprise before his head turns to look at Tucker. “Excuse me?” he says dumbly.

“We think you’re the one that’s been selling out the crew,” Tucker repeats with his chin stubbornly in the air. “Someone’s been sending in anonymous tips hoping we’ll get caught, and we think it’s you.”

 _“You_ think it’s him,” Niall is sure to correct, scowl on his face. “The rest of us aren’t convinced that Rogue would do anything to sabotage this family. He does everything he can to protect us.”

There’s a murmur of assent spreading across the room, but Tucker does not join in. He stands and comes right in front of where Louis is sitting, looking down on him in every sense. “Whether or not the rest of the crew sees what you’re about yet, I know what’s going on. And I know what the Code says.”

“The Code says that treason is punishable by exile, yes,” Louis says, pretending he isn’t feeling suddenly very, very queasy.

“I was actually referring to the part where if any one person in the crew makes an accusation against another, a trial must be held.” Tucker turns to face the room, straightens his spine, and calmly projects, “I, Tucker Ransom, formally accuse His Majesty The Rogue of treason against the thieves of London. And I assert my right to have him called to trial for his crimes.”

Scandalized whispers break out across the room and build to a frenzy of panic. In all the chaos, nobody but Louis could have heard when Tucker leaned down and whispered, “I’m going to expose you for the cheat you are, Rogue. Enjoy your throne while it lasts.”

…………………

Harry is in an absolute frenzy.

“He can’t do that!” he protests. “Everyone knows that you’re not the one doing all of this. You could never- you’re so-”

“I’m not above the Code, though, Hazza,” Louis sighs in reply. “I’m subject to the same rules as everyone else, and that means that if I’m accused of a crime, I have to stand trial. That doesn’t mean I’m going to be convicted.”

The younger boy stops his manic pacing of Louis’ living room and takes that in. “Right. It’s not like he can produce any evidence, because you’re not actually guilty, so it’s not like you can actually get exiled. Right?”

“That’s the beauty of the justice system, the aim is to be just. Hey, we’re going to be okay, yeah?” Louis opens his arms and leaves them spread wide until Harry relents and finds his way into Louis’ lap. “There’s a good lad. We’re going to be okay.”

“We?” Harry echoes. “I’m not the one on trial here. You don’t have to worry about _me.”_

“Uh, well, I actually have to talk to you about something,” Louis says hesitantly. “Um, I have a tiny bit of bad news.” Harry suddenly gets tense in his arms, and Louis starts to rub his back before he’s even spilled the beans. “It’s nothing so terrible, it’s just- do you know how the trial works?”

Harry nods slowly. “There’s the accuser who makes his case, and the defendant who can refute it. The case is heard by the king, the knight, and the oldest member of the crew. Wait a minute, how’s that going to work?”

“Because I’m king,” Louis explains quietly, “it’s a conflict of interest to have people from my own crew rule on my trial. The Code says that I’m to be tried by my peers- three kings or queens from nearby crews.”

“Oh. Alright. That makes sense.”

“The thing is, every crew is assigned other kingdoms that specifically must rule over them in case of a trial. So that we can’t pick ones who like us or whatever.”

“Yeah?”

“And the ruling kingdoms for London are Norfolk, Devon, and… Cheshire.”

At first Louis thinks that he might have to repeat himself, because Harry isn’t reacting at all. No change in his neutral expression, no extra tension in his body, no questions or comments whatsoever. It’s only when he mumbles, “Y’alright, H?” that he gets an answer at all.

“Oh,” Harry mumbles. “Cheshire. Okay.”

“Are you alright?” Louis asks again.

“Yeah, of course, I’m fine,” replies Harry, but he’s getting up and starting to tidy Louis’ flat for him with a manic sort of energy that Louis well knows. “That’s in the past, it’s no big deal. I’m here now, and I’m with you, so why would that bother me at all?”

“Because you’re a shitty liar no matter how hard I try to make a con artist out of you.” Louis stands and moves to Harry’s side where he’s trying to neaten a pile of magazines strewn on the coffee table. “Harry, look at me. Look at me,” he repeats, grabbing Harry’s wrists and turning the boy to face him. “Talk to me.”

“I was sort of hoping I’d never have to see him again,” Harry admits, only a little tearfully.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about that,” Louis murmurs gently. “You’re probably going to be required to attend the trial, since you’re close to me and might be called as a witness. So you’ll have to see him.”

“I know. I just- I know.”

“But I can guarantee Archie isn’t going to say a single word to you,” Louis says firmly. “He’s here as a guest and I’m still the king, which means I get to control who says what to my people. I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Harry rolls his eyes, probably so they won’t tear up. “I’m not _that_ fragile, Lou. It’s not like I have to go back to him. That’s all I’d ever be scared of.”

“Of course you don’t have to. I’d go straight before I let that happen.”

“Crook straight or sexuality straight?”

“Not technically sure I have the capacity to change either, but I’d give it a go, I guess.”

Louis pulls Harry into a hug and Harry lets himself get caught up in Louis’ arms again. Somewhere in the back of his mind is a small, scared place that trembles a little with the knowledge that the past doesn’t always stay the past, but it’s small enough that he can pretend the press of Louis’ body drowns it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I slipped into a coma where I walked around unpacking boxes and bubbling in scantrons without any cognitive processing whatsoever and the next thing you know it's wednesday and I haven't updated in ninety years I'M SORRY 
> 
> shoutout to my mom for coming to visit and buying me milk so I'd stop crying and seek wifi and post some gay fanfiction thanks mom
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	11. Chapter 11

It only takes a week for the ruling monarchs to be collected and brought to London. The trial is set for midnight on Saturday, after what more or less equates to a state dinner between the King of London and the visiting dignitaries. They don’t bring their knights, of course, since someone has to run their kingdoms in their absence, so Zayn too will sit this one out. It’ll just be the four rulers at a symbolic round table before they go before the crowd and Louis’ fate is placed in their hands.

“Evening, all,” Louis greets as he enters the office to find all three guests standing in wait. “Scott, always a pleasure. And lovely to meet you, miss- Olivia, is it?” He shakes the hands of the King and Queen of Norfolk and Devon, respectively. He only hesitates for a tiny second before forcing a cordial smile and offering the same hand to Archie. “Come a long way from Cheshire, Archie, thank you.”

“Wish it were better circumstances, eh?” Archie’s hand is clammy, which is sort of representative of him as a person. He’s an unattractive sort of man, with thin lips and small eyes that never seem to brighten at anything. Some rulers are chosen for their charm, like the golden-haired Olivia or even the friendly Scott, but others get where they are by the merit of their work alone. Louis has never stopped to ponder what got him his own position, but he doesn’t  _ have  _ to ponder with Archie. If he wasn’t a damn good heist architect, he would be just another face in the crowd.

But whatever their merits, there are three of his peers standing before Louis, and it is his duty as king to show them a pleasant dinner before they hear his case. “Let’s sit, shall we?” he says formally, gesturing to the table set up in anticipation of the meal. No one notices the little shake in his voice.

It’s all Louis could do not to drink the entire bottle of wine that Zayn is using to fill their glasses. His stomach is in knots, however much he’d deny it if anyone asked, and getting tipsy might at least  _ begin _ to make him feel normal again. But Zayn’s stern looks keep reminding him that this is the absolute worst day to be less than his best. Louis stops after one glass. He doesn’t feel much better.

At least the conversation is bright and cordial. They share stories of fantastic heists and ones gone wrong, who is rising up the ranks and who is showing promise.

When the last subject comes up, Louis knows he should keep his mouth shut. Zayn’s sharp eyes and stubborn jaw confirm it. At the most, he should briefly mention Niall and then politely move along.

But in the end it’s Louis that makes the rules, and he doesn’t like that plan at all.

“I’ve just recently taken on a new protégé, actually, and he’s proving quite the lock genius,” Louis says boldly. “Took me a while to find his talent, but I’m nothing if not a stubborn bastard.”

“Got that right,” Scott grins.

“He’s a whiz with picking locks, can get any kind of doorknob or padlock in under ten seconds. Cracked a safe in two minutes once, without even knowing what kind it was going in. Kid is brilliant. Zayn, why don’t you go fetch him for me? Immediately,” Louis adds when Zayn’s eyes narrow in silent protest.

Zayn knows that it would be devastating to Louis’ reputation if the Knight of London disobeyed his king’s orders so he bows slightly and exits to do as he’s told, but Louis can tell it’s only barely. He doesn’t care all that much, just presses on and retells the story of how his prizefighter won them armfuls of solid gold bars on his first official heist.

“Your Majesty, I’ve brought him,” announces Zayn quietly as he returns, and gestures behind him until Harry steps timidly into the room.

Louis finds those green eyes at once and smiles, softly. “Come here, Styles, meet my guests. I’ve been telling them how you’re the brightest star we’ve got here in London.”

Harry glances hesitantly between Louis’ eyes and his outstretched hand and something there must make him brave, because he holds his chin high and strides forward until he’s standing next to Louis facing down two perfect strangers and a man who did him a terrible wrong. He hides the nerves behind a mask of cool indifference as he bows and says, “It is my pleasure, Your Majesties.”

“This is him, my safecracker extraordinaire,” Louis says with a proud smirk, and he can’t help it if his eyes are glued to Archie’s face to see the dumbfounded expression stuck on his features. “He’s absolutely irreplaceable. Aren’t you, Styles?”

“I do my best to serve this most excellent city of London,” Harry says cheekily. Louis grins at how Archie blanches. “And of course, her most excellent King.”

“And an excellent job you do of it,” Louis replies just as wickedly. “Give me a kiss, then, sweetheart.”

Harry is only startled for a moment before he smiles and leans down to kiss Louis, soft and slow and sweet. His exhale as he opens his lips says  _ I’ve never been stronger. _ The way Louis’ tongue traces his lover’s answers  _ I’m proud of you. _

“Thank you for your time, babe,” Louis says in gentle dismissal when he pulls back, and Harry shows a dimple as he bows once more and makes his exit.

Olivia leans forward to prop her elbows on the table and cock her head at Louis with a curious look. “Do you kiss all of your subjects like that, Louis?”

Louis takes another sip of his wine. “Only the ones who bring me gold bars,” he answers with a grin, and two thirds of his guests laugh uproariously with him.

It’s the last laugh that they have together before dinner is over and the clock is nearing midnight. “Zayn, round everyone up and have them waiting for us,” Louis instructs quietly as they all stand and stretch. There’s new tension in the room as the jokes of dinner fade and the realization that today is a grim occasion sets in. “Everyone, if you could just follow me.”

It isn’t a terribly fancy setup. There’s a space cleared in the den where three chairs face two, and the general population is left to accrue on couches and tables and in between in the space behind where the defendant and accuser sit. Louis takes the chair on the left and watches Archie, Scott and Olivia take their seats in the row before him. They do not meet his eyes any longer.

“Good evening, Your Majesties,” Tucker says lightly as he takes the seat to the right of Louis. 

“You’re the accuser, then? Mr. Ransom?” asks Olivia, reviewing the papers she hold in her hands.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Sir Knight, is only the crew in attendance?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Zayn answers from his place off to the side of Louis. “All present and accounted for.”

It’s amazing, how that can be true and yet Louis could hear a pin drop in the warehouse. He turns around to take in the solemn, concerned faces of his crew. There’s the girl who he reached out to when her family was lost in a fire and she had nowhere to go. A little further down is a woman and her young son, who Louis taught to sew so that she could make cheap clothes seem like designer so that she could put food in her child’s mouth. In the back was Nick, who’s been picking pockets since before Louis was born and still respects him enough to bow when tradition required it.

And there’s Harry, eyes so full of affection and worry that Louis has to look away.  _ This is the moment of truth, _ he tells himself firmly.  _ You’ll be alright. Justice will be served. _

“Let’s get this started, shall we?” Scott asks, and the room seemed to gulp as one.

The three ruling kings look to Tucker. “Let’s hear your points, then,” Archie says, “in your case against your king. As clearly and concisely as possible, please.”

Tucker stands and bows to the three. “Of course, Your Majesty. Simply put, I have evidence that the king has been working with the police against his own crew in an act of treason. He has given information of our activities, nearly resulting in the imprisonment of dozens of men and women, and has even deliberately planted evidence to ensure the capture of one.”

“These are serious accusations,” counters Olivia. “Defendant, what is your reply?”

Louis clears his throat so he can be a little firmer when he spoke. “I did no such thing.”

“The counsel hears you. Accuser, what evidence do you have?”

“First, to prove in the point that the defendant has been fraternizing with law enforcement, I have photographic proof, taken just outside this building as he had a brief, undisclosed conversation with an officer.”

Louis has been carefully studying the knees of his counsel, but Tucker’s words make his neck snap up in surprise. He can’t have proof because the accusations were lies, and yet there’s a photo being handed to the counsel, and their faces are darkening at the sight. Finally, Archie offers it to Louis. “Your answer?”

He takes it and feels a rush of understanding and relief as he recognizes the scene. “This is me in the photo, but that isn’t just any officer. That’s Officer Payne, he’s an ally. We were having a discussion about him accessing some information for me in connection with a recent bust this crew was involved in. I wanted to make sure that the investigation was still stalling.”

“Your Majesties,” Tucker jumps in, “I submit that in the photo you can’t see the officer’s face. Of course it would be convenient that he says it’s an ally of the crew, but we can’t confirm that.”

“I know who can. The officer in the picture is involved with a member of the crew, one Niall Horan.” Louis turns around and scans the crowd until he finds Niall, beckoning him forward. “Niall, come tell the counsel this is Liam-”

But Scott is holding up his palm to stop Niall in his tracks. “I’m afraid the counsel can’t allow that. No one can confirm the identity of that officer and this just becomes a game of ‘he said, she said.’ Unless the person in the photo can identify himself, which he can’t because he’s not a member of the crew and therefore can’t testify, we’ll have to let the issue rest.”

Archie nods. “We’ll accept this as evidence that the defendant is associated with law enforcement in some way, though it is not clear his motives or intentions.”

Louis grinds his teeth but respectfully inclines his head, handing the photo back to them. He’ll have to take that hit, and hope that it was all the lies Tucker has up his sleeve.

It is not, apparently, because when prompted to give his next point, Tucker nods that he  _ does _ in fact have more evidence. “When I started having some suspicions I decided to look into the people the defendant was close to,” he says. Louis’ gut twists. “I did some research into his…  _ consort, _ if you will, Harry Styles. I have a witness if you’d like confirmation-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Archie says with a flush. “We’re personally aware of the, uh, nature of the relationship. How is he relevant to this case?”

“I overheard a conversation in which Styles told the defendant that he had an extensive criminal past. I’m sure that he’ll readily confirm knowledge of his lover’s record?”

Three sets of eyes turn to Louis, and he nods stiffly. “The deplorable nature of eavesdropping aside,” he can’t help but say, seething at the thought of Tucker lingering outside his door maliciously even all those months ago, “I will confirm that. I am well aware of his record.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Tucker gives him a snide smile that Louis does not return. “Now, oddly enough, when I did some searching of public records in his home county, I could find him nowhere.”

Louis’ pulse picks up. That was impossible. If Tucker had searched Cheshire records for Harry Styles, he would have found a mile long rap sheet. “Perhaps you searched under the wrong name?” he suggests weakly.

Tucker just offers another paper to the counsel. “Here I have the criminal record of Harry Styles for you to view.  _ Completely wiped clean.” _

It gets passed down the line and over to Louis, and it’s half with dismay and half with shock that his eyes confirm what his brain can’t believe. This is Harry’s record, complete with photo and information, but without a single offense listed. “This can’t be,” he says dumbly, shaking his head as he meets eyes with each member of the counsel. “This has to be falsified. His criminal history is extensive, I’ve seen it myself.”

“Then you can confirm that it’s been changed recently?” Scott asks.

“Yes. But- how is this relevant?” Louis challenges, finding his footing. Things are slipping away from him in coincidences and mysteries, but here is a valid point. “What does this have to do with my trial?”

“Yes, Mr. Ransom, enlighten us.” Olivia looks on calmly. “What’s the relevance? Do you have any further evidence to present to the counsel?”

“The assertion that the defendant can’t provide an alibi for any of the events in question.” Tucker puffs out his chest and raises his voice ever so slightly like he’s trying to create drama. “Except Mr. Styles in the case of the raid, but he’s part of the motive, I believe. The defendant once went to jail for a month to save his lover from a harsher sentence. Now he’s talking to cops and all of a sudden that same lover’s criminal history gets wiped clean, and all of these suspicious tips and coincidences start spiraling this crew out of control. He’s sold out his kingdom for his lover, plain and simple.”

It’s hard for Louis to pick his jaw up off the floor and give answer, but when he does, it’s a dumbfounded, “You can’t be serious?”

“This is all circumstantial,” Scott says sternly, brow pulled together in concern. “There’s nothing that you’ve presented here that makes me inclined to convict a good king of treason against his own people.

Olivia nods slightly in agreement, though Archie remains impassive, and Louis feels a flicker of relief. Of course they wouldn’t convict him on hearsay like this. They’d have to be idiots.

Tucker’s watching the counsel, too, eyes nervous as he realizes that perhaps not everyone is as easily stirred as a crowd full of petty thieves. These are kings and queens, and a half-baked case isn’t going to win. Louis watches the hesitation on his face before it returns to stone and he turns and gestures into the crowd. “Mat, could you come here, please?”

Everyone watches as Mat, one of the little sycophants who tend to follow Tucker around and listen too closely to what he says, comes forward and stands beside Tucker. “Who’s this?” Archie asks.

“He didn’t want to come forward unless absolutely necessary to protect his identity, but desperate times call for desperate measures,” Tucker says gravely. “He has one final thing to share.”

“Very well, let’s hear it.”

Everyone is quiet as Mat clears his voice and announces, “The night before Pierre was arrested, I overheard Rogue talking on his phone to someone. He said that he was going to bring the person on the other end of the line Pierre’s sweatshirt so they could put it into evidence and get him. He said that Pierre knew too much.”

It’s probably for the best that Louis is sitting because he suddenly feels weak. Of all the things-! “That’s just a bold-faced lie,” he tries to stutter in protest.

But Olivia is talking over him with cool disinterest. “Knew too much about what?”

“He -Rogue, that is- was planning to turn the kingdom over to the cops in return for immunity for him and Styles for everything they’d ever done. They were going to leave the country and let us all pay the price,” Mat finishes with a solemn shake of his head.

The room is no longer silent, it’s buzzing just like this inside of Louis’ head. “It’s a lie,” he keeps insisting over and over. “I never said that, it isn’t true! It’s just a lie.”

Scott looks positively sick to his stomach. “It’s your word against his, Rogue. You can’t prove it isn’t true. We can’t call Pierre in here to speak on your behalf.”

“This can’t be happening,” Louis mumbles to himself, but it is. The crowd remains in a frenzy, though Louis’ mind has gone still. He can hardly remember to shake his head no when asked if he has anything else to offer before the counsel went off to deliberate. He just sits there with his head in his hands as the three monarchs leave.

A few minutes later, Zayn comes up and lays a quiet hand on his shoulder. “I’m here for you, no matter what,” he tells Louis, then returns obediently to his place.

That’s all anyone says to him, the entire hour that he stares at the floor and waits for the counsel to return. He can hear the buzz of the crew behind him, hundreds of voices all raised at once, but he isn’t really listening. They could have been praising him or begging for crucifiction, but it made no matter. Those who needed to be convinced have their minds made up, are returning to the room with solemn faces and taking their seats.

Scott raises a hand and gestures the crowd to quiet. They hush at once. He clears his throat and folds and unfolds the papers in his hands like it’s a legitimate reason to stall. Finally, he can’t put off speaking any longer.

“The counsel has heard all evidence and testimony on this matter and has come to a decision,” he says blankly. “It gives me no joy to say this, but we have found His Majesty of London guilty of treason.”

The room erupts into shouts, and then there’s movement all around as the crew surges forward and around him. Some swarm around Tucker, some surround the counsel to make their own opinions heard. Hands tug on Louis, faces clustered before him shouting words that he can’t understand. “Back off,” he tries to tell them. “Be quiet!”

But no one was listening. It’s a full-scale riot, joy and outrage mixed together with volatility in a tight space and the building was about to blow. The autopilot in Louis’ brain kicked on, the space of inborn leadership that came from caring for his family and turned into caring for his crew and will perhaps never die as long as Louis lived. It makes his legs stand, his arms brush the people from his body, his feet find their way to the seat of the chair he’d just occupied so he could stand and see above the crowd. It makes his lungs take a deep breath and his mouth shout,  _ “I want absolute silence!” _

He got it. The crowd freezes as one, maybe just out of habit, but all eyes are on the man they’ve just watched be condemned. “Nobody moves,” he continues, voice still booming with incurable authority. He could almost pass for indifferent.

“The counsel has made a decision,” Louis declares, “and you will respect it. It is in our code that you will respect it, whether you like it or not. There are no exceptions. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes, Rogue,” the crowd mumbles.

The adrenaline is still coursing through Louis’ veins, and if his hands shake it’s probably only because of that. “Treason is an offense that earns exile. Automatically. Which means that I am no longer your king. I am no longer a part of this crew.  _ Silence, _ I said!” he interrupts as the roar starts up again and dies just as quickly at his command. “The Code also says that when the king loses his throne, the knight takes his place. Zayn is your king now, and you will respect him just as much or more than you ever did me.”

It feels like it shouldn’t be the end of his speech. It feels like he ought to wax poetic for a while longer, say everything he’ll never get a chance to say to these people again. But there are too many teary eyes in the crowd, too many faces that look like they’ve just lost a friend, and there isn’t much Louis can say. “I did not do what they say i did, and I will always care about each and every one of you,” he finishes lamely, then steps down from his chair as the babble starts up again.

Louis’ starting to go numb again with the shock as he pushes through the crowd. It takes him a long moment to realize a hand is gripping his arm and slowing him down as they near the exit. It’s Zayn. “Come up to the office,” he pleads. “Just for a minute. I need to talk to you.”

He doesn’t have the strength to protest, so he lets Zayn drag him up the stairs and into the office. The door shuts behind them and the roar turns to a hum, and as minutes drag on Louis can feel himself coming back to reality little by little.

A cigarette is pressed between his fingers, already lit. “You in there?” Zayn asks quietly.

“I think so,” Louis says unsteadily, taking a drag. “Fuck,” he mumbles on the exhale. “That just happened, right? This wasn’t all some crazy, fucked up nightmare?”

He knows it isn’t, though, because he can see the remnant of his dignitary dinner still on the table in the middle of the room. His last meal as king. There’s a weird feeling in his stomach, like the moment just before the roller coaster starts down the hill, as he realizes that Zayn is the King of the Thieves of London and he’s just some bloke without a job.

“Shit,” Louis says lamely, and takes another puff.

Zayn just sits on the couch and runs his hand through his hair like he always does when he’s out of words. “Last night I paid the rent on the flat through next month,” he says after a while.

“Got another two weeks left before that was due,” Louis answers automatically. “Should have waited. Might have needed the money for something else between now and then.”

“Yeah, well. Yesterday it was acceptable to pay rent on that flat. Today it’s misuse of crew funds.”

Louis blinks and finds Zayn’s gaze. “You knew I was going to be found guilty.”

“No, but I prepared for the worst just in case,” corrects Zayn. “You’ve got a month and a half to-”

“Move out, got it,” Louis finishes. He’s down to the filter now, and Zayn is up and pressing another into his hand before he’s even snubbed the first out. Louis gratefully accepts.

“Actually,” says Zayn quietly, not quite looking at Louis at all, “I was going to say you have a month and a half to nail that motherfucker to the wall.”

“Your enthusiasm is infectious,” Louis says in a droll tone that says it clearly isn’t. “But it’s done. The counsel ruled. I’m out. It’s over.”

“Unless another counsel overturns it,” Zayn points out. “You have six weeks to prove him a liar. Well technically you have as long as you want, but you’ll be proving it from the streets in six weeks, so-”

“You know what, maybe it’s not so bad,” interrupts Louis. “It could be a good thing that they threw me out. Gives you a chance to be the kickass king I’ve always known you would be.”

“Shut the fuck up.” The words are too harsh, and Louis’ head snaps up to find Zayn looking at him with teary eyes just before he pulls Louis into a bone-crushing hug. “Louis, you’re my best friend and I love you and I’m not fucking lying to you when I say that you’re the best fucking king that this city will ever see. There’s never gonna be a king like you.”

Louis’ shaking a little more now, so he winds his arms around Zayn and brings the cigarette back up to his lips to take a drag over Zayn shoulder. “You’re my best friend,” he replies unsteadily, “and I love you. And if anyone can do it you can. Do you hear me? I wouldn’t let anyone else take care of my family but you.”

They stay like that until the cigarette runs out, and then Louis finds his way down the back stairs and into the night so he can drive himself back home. He lays in bed wide awake for a long time just staring at the wall. It isn’t until someone trips through the flat and crawls into bed behind him and wraps him up in strong arms and the smell of honey that he can close his eyes and sleep at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho ho fooled you all didn't I you thought it couldn't possibly be Tucker but then it was PLOT TWIST ~~okay actually I'm just not anywhere as creative as any of y'all and that's why it's Tucker I'm hiring you guys to pick my villain next time~~
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okie dokie so this is Carly (rimmingprincess) and I'm posting for Rachel because she's sick and doesn't have wifi :( go send her get well messages on her tumblr (canonlarry). (and tell her how much you love this chapter and her writing)

There are exactly two minutes when Louis first wakes up in Harry’s arms where he considers giving up crime and being a contributing member of society. He could work in sales, maybe, use his famous charm for the good of a corporation instead of the good of his wallet. He could forget about the life of a thief and make an honest living. He could buy Harry nice things and set up a direct deposit for his rent and be a proper adult for the first time in his life.

But then he remembers that real jobs are boring and don’t pay for shit and besides that nobody wants to hire a felon, so he should probably stick to what he knows.

It feels like forever since he wasn’t king. It’s certainly been ages since he wasn’t a thief. He’d left home at eighteen and moved to London, and by twenty he was king. Now he’s twenty-two, disgraced, and unemployed. Gone is the structure of the crew, the comforting sense of purpose, the rules that keep everyone safe. Just like that, his family is gone.

Normally it would be inadvisable for someone not part of a city’s official crew to attempt to thieve within city limits; there’s a hierarchy to being a thief in a big city, and unless you’re a part of it, you’re stepping on the toes of an entire system. Tempting fate, as Harry nervously points out when Louis tells him he’s going to go run cons downtown. The last thing Louis needs is to face the wrath of a crew that just unthroned him.

Louis just kisses Harry’s worries away and sets out anyways. He doubts there are more than a handful of people who’ll find him on this street corner tricking bills from the wallets of pedestrians and actually turn him in. In this entire, topsy-turvy world he has to at least have faith that there’s a small measure of decency left in his former crew.

For a while it seems that he’s right, because every time he recognizes a passing face as one of his thieves -as one of Zayn’s thieves, he reminds himself- they give weak smiles and turn their faces, an unspoken agreement that when it comes to Louis, they turn a blind eye. He’s spent several lazy hours and collected a few hundred pounds so far when bad news arrives.

“Don’t think much of you, Rogue, but I never thought you were this stupid,” Tucker says as he sidles up beside Louis. “Operating outside of the crew, eh? Can’t wait to watch you get skinned for it.”

“Oh please,” Louis scoffs, immediately reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and a light. The Tucker Zone is starting to ache again. “Because you’re so concerned with proper behavior according to the Code.”

“Of course I’m concerned!” cries Tucker. “Just yesterday we had to dethrone you for your shameful, immoral actions. Trying to sabotage your own crew, seriously? That’s just low.”

“I was framed and you know it, you piece of shit.”

“And a beautiful frame job it was, eh? Such a shame that I’ll never get to take credit for it.” Tucker laughs, actually has the nerve to guffaw to Louis’ face when he sees the former king recoil. “Come on, Rogue, you know the rubbish heap that is your crew- well, used to be, anyways. Do you really think anyone else is smart enough to make this happen?”

“I’m just shocked you owned up to it,” Louis growls, dropping the butt to the cement and grinding it out with his foot, the final cloud of smoke blowing right into Tucker’s face as they square off. “Figured you’d just be a coward and keep that to yourself forever. What’s this about, then? Eh? You gunning for my throne? Getting paid by the cops? Immunity? Come on, then, tell me what it is that has you getting kids thrown in jail- what has you bringing cops into our home.”

Tucker shrugs, smirk never leaving his face. “Not your home anymore. Kinda just wanted you gone, though. And if you took that little slut of a consort with you I wouldn’t complain-”

“You keep Harry’s name out of your goddamn, traitorous mouth,” Louis hisses, anger making his blood sing in his ears. “You don’t like me, fine. But you act like an adult about it. You don’t get to ruin that family over it and you don’t get to run your mouth about people that you don’t even know-”

“I know that for all you talk about being this good, fair king who looks out for his family, you sold out for the first pretty face that walked in that door,” Tucker spits. “You never gave me half the credit I deserved. I’m a damn good thief, and you treated me like trash. But oh, then some new guy comes along and he’s the favorite all of a sudden just because he lets you be his butt buddy?”

Louis is fairly certain that he’s never been so furious in his life. “So all of this- the ratting, the raids, the trial, all of this crazy shit- is because you didn’t get a gold star for all of your harebrained fucking schemes? First of all, you’re a fucking idiot. Second of all, you’re a fucking traitor. And third of all, I thought I told you not to say a fucking word about Harry!” He punctuates the last point with a shove to Tucker’s chest that has him reeling backwards a few steps, and moves forward to be up in his face again before he’s even regained his balance. “I will not warn you again, Tucker.”

“Or what?”

Or I strangle you to death slowly in the back of this grocery store. “Or I recommend a death sentence when I tell the crew about this and call a council on your sorry arse!” Louis says firmly, chin stuck in the air and fists clenched tight. He wants to plant one of them in Tucker’s nose, to watch blood gush out and wipe away that disgusting smirk.

But even his threats don’t seem to dim Tucker’s glee. “With what evidence? All you have is what I said to you- you’re going to appeal your case based on hearsay? You’d have a hard time getting someone to believe anyone told you that, but you’re seriously going to say the guy who caught you just walked up to you on the street and admitted he set you up?” He flashes Louis a pitying look. “You’re smarter than that, Rogue. Admit it. I win.”

He walks away without waiting for Louis’ reply, but Louis didn’t have one anyways. He’s left standing on the sidewalk in the cold watching Tucker retreat towards a home Louis is no longer welcome in, and all he can think is that the bastard is right.

Louis lost.

…………………

With three hundred pounds lining his coat pockets, Louis trudges home to find Harry making lunch all wrapped up in one of Louis’ baggy sweatshirts. Louis wraps himself up in Harry’s arms and mumbles that perhaps he’ll take the week off. Harry kisses his forehead and whispers that maybe that’s a good idea.

It’s not that he doesn’t support Louis fighting back- he’s never felt as strongly about anything as he does about the fact that there is only one man who should be on that throne, and that it’s Louis. It’s just that he can see the tension in Louis’ jaw, can feel it in his shoulders every time they touch, and quite frankly he’s worried.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asks Louis miserably halfway through the week, watching Louis drink his fourth cup of tea while wrapped up in bed. He’s got the game console on and has been staring at the FIFA menu for an hour, not even motivated enough to play.

“Hmm?” Harry’s voice seems to only vaguely reach Louis in his haze, but he at least tears his eyes from the screen to look at his boyfriend. “No, I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry? Cold? Anything?” Harry frowns. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay. You’re in a slump.” He lifts up the edge of the duvet and crawls beneath it, scooting close into Louis’ side in the little bubble of warmth.

Louis’ fingers immediately find their way into the tangle of Harry’s curls. “I’m not in a- alright, maybe a bit. I think I deserve a little pout, though, I did lose my entire life’s work earlier in the week.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be sad,” Harry murmurs, nuzzling into Louis’ shoulder. “Absolutely you are. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to make you happy anyways, though.” He presses a kiss to Louis’ chest, and only hesitates for a second before starting to lay a trail of kisses down the soft cotton expanse of Louis’ tee shirt until he’s licking at the little strip of skin peeking out above his pajama bottoms.

When one of Harry’s hands starts tugging at Louis’ drawstrings, the older man laughs a little and pulls gently at the hair he never let go of. “Get back up here and kiss me, cutie.”

Harry’s face is hot with a blush when he moves back up to obey, kissing Louis with a certain measure of sheepishness. “If you’re not in the mood for me to get you off, that’s okay,” he mumbles with a little smile. “That was just the first thing I could think of to cheer you up.”

“I’m okay with you getting me off,” Louis replies with a smirk, “as long as I get to keep kissing you.”

There’s just enough time for Harry to pop a semi at the gravel in Louis’ voice before Louis is wiggling down so he’s no longer propped up against the headboard and tugging Harry to kneel properly above him. He tugs at Harry’s hair again as a cue and Harry responds at once, sliding Louis’ boxers and pajama bottoms down around his thighs and taking hold of his cock. He’s got his knees on either side of Louis, one hand supporting his own weight while the other quickly works Louis to full hardness.

“You, too,” Louis murmurs into Harry’s mouth as his hips start to wiggle impatiently.

“Hmm?”

“Get yourself off, too, at the same time.” Louis’ spare hand reaches down to helpfully undo the fasten of Harry’s jeans before returning to holding onto his bicep. “You’ve got big hands, use them.”

It’s a kind thing that Louis’ undone his trousers, since the suggestion has blood redistributing itself in Harry’s body in a way that probably would have been uncomfortable otherwise. He quickly moves to comply, pushing the jeans and his briefs down until his hardening length is freed and he can lean forward to take both himself and Louis in hand at the same time.

He meant for this to be about making Louis feel good, but Louis’ made this delicious hissing noise at the feel of Harry’s cock against his and he keeps giving off these nonsense syllables every time their tips rub together and it’s all making Harry feel a little lightheaded. More and more he finds himself distracted from working Louis’ cock by the feel of friction on his own, and it isn’t long before Harry’s speeding up his hand and coaxing himself into an orgasm first, spilling over his hand and Louis’ cock with a moan.

“Yes, baby, there you go,” Louis sighs, like he doesn’t mind a bit. Which he probably doesn’t, since as soon as Harry’s done with the last of his aftershocks he releases his cock and focuses once more on just Louis, this time using his own cum to slick up the length and make the slide just that much better. Louis’ lips he continues to kiss, sucking gently and biting sharply and tugging a little in a way that actually makes Louis growl right before he yanks Harry’s curls and comes, too.

“Am I allowed to stop kissing you long enough to clean you up?” Harry asks smilingly after a few moments.

Louis kisses him as he considers. “Does it require you leaving this bed?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” answers Harry, reaching up to disengage Louis’ hand from his curls before disappearing beneath the duvet. Seconds later he’s tonguing at the soft skin of Louis’ stomach, slowly lapping up the cum that’s collected there from both men and finishing by ever so gently replacing Louis’ boxers and bottoms up around his hips. He ties the drawstrings into a neat bow and emerges once more, wiping a smear of white from his bottom lip and shimmying his own jeans back up so he can cuddle into Louis again.

Their heartbeats have slowed by the time either speaks again. It’s Louis this time, very softly. “Sorry I’ve been a bit of a lump the past few days.”

“You’re not a lump,” Harry argues at once. “Not even a bit. Not remotely lumpy.”

“You’re cute. I have been, though, I know I have. Just been really…” Louis sighs, long and weary. “It just feels really shit, to be honest.”

Harry can’t think of a thing to say. He hugs Louis a little tighter instead.

“Tucker came to me that first day,” Louis continues after a moment. He shrugs at Harry’s startled look. “Didn’t want to upset you. But yeah, he uh, he found me across town, confessed about how he was behind all that shit. Can’t even do shit about it.”

“What about Zayn?” presses Harry. “You can tell him, and he can do something, right? Since he’s the king?”

“Well, hypothetically he could hold a trial for Tucker, but I don’t have a shred of fucking proof is the thing. It’s my word against his, and my word is shit considering I’ve just been thrown out.” Louis buries his face in his hands for a moment and then digs the heels against his eyes in frustration. “God I want to see that bastard roast. Not even just because of what he did to me, though. The fact that he would do that to our family, over petty jealousy… Your family,” he corrects with a wince.

“No, our family,” Harry says firmly. “It’s as much yours as mine, no matter what the court said. Hell, it’s more yours than mine. And we’re going to figure out a way to get you back in, okay? You were born to be king, Louis, we’ll find a way to make that happen again.”

“Yeah. Maybe, love,” is Louis’ vague reply. “Maybe.”

…………………

What Louis isn’t counting on is that Harry’s now spent months and months studying under the cleverest legend of a con-man that the country’s ever seen. He isn’t counting on the fact that Harry is a man who’s peaceful right up until he has to fight for something he believes in, and that Harry believes in Louis with all of the heart that’s pounding in his chest now as he approaches the shadowy figure at the end of the block.

Tucker’s supposed to be standing watch while a team rips off the building across the street, so he probably should have noticed Harry before he’s practically upon him. “Styles, what the fuck are you doing here?” he scowls. “I thought they only let you out of the house when they needed a lock picked.”

“It’s almost like I’m a human being with the right to choose when I come and go instead of an animal on a leash,” Harry allows himself to say dryly before biting the inside of his cheek in reprimand. When he continues, it’s perfectly civil. “Wanted to talk to you privately, actually.”

The glance Tucker gives him is all too knowing. “I’m assuming the has-been told you I’m responsible for his fall from grace? I’ll tell you what I told him- good luck proving it. Your word as his resident fuckbuddy isn’t worth much, either.”

“You’re assuming that I want the decision overturned,” Harry replies coolly, gritting his teeth a little at his apparent title. “You might have made up the bit about trying to destroy the crew, but I’m pretty sure the part where I walked in on him shagging some other guy wasn’t made up. He’s been stepping out on me.”

Louis’ voice is right there in his head. No fidgeting. Pick out the emotion that goes with the lie, channel your experiences and let it show on your face. Don’t be afraid of eye contact, but don’t stare. You’re supposed to be more interested in what you’re saying than how he’s reacting, remember that. Let it settle, the ball is in his court. So Harry thinks of all of his bitterness and hurt, every time he’s ever been betrayed, and sets a hurt sort of scowl on his face as he waits for Tucker’s reaction.

It doesn’t take long. Tucker flicks his eyes over to Harry’s face and snorts out a laugh. “You serious? Oh, that’s rich. Class act, that fucker. Sells out for a piece of ass and then dumps the piece of ass.”

More gritting of Harry’s teeth, more tremendous self-control. “I want him to pay for what he did to me.”

Now Tucker’s curious. “He’s been exiled from the place he loves most. That isn’t enough for you? Ah, gee, he properly broke your heart, didn’t he?” He shook his head. “Fuckin’ fags, can’t even take rejection like a man.”

“I want him to go to jail,” Harry blurts out before he can say something truthful, like how he’d like Tucker to jump off a cliff. “How’d you frame him? I want to do it again, but bigger. I want him locked up for life.”

“You can’t be serious,” Tucker scoffs, but his eyes are appraising on Harry. “You honestly want to send your ex-boyfriend to prison?”

Harry takes a slow, deep breath and shrugs. “Like you said, he broke my heart. So you’ll help?”

The pause that follows is uncomfortable to say the least, Harry trying to stand as steadily as possible even under the keen eye of Tucker, who’s glaring into the night and occasionally back at Harry. “I don’t like you,” he tells Harry at last.

“It’s mutual.”

“But I dislike Rogue even more, and I think you do, too,” continues Tucker with a sigh. “I suppose kicking him while he’s down is worth a little more effort. What did you have in mind?”

“I- I dunno. How’d you do it? It was genius, you- you made it look like my record was clean. And how’d you get Mat to say he overheard Louis saying that stuff? Did he believe it?”

Tucker only hesitates for the space of three seconds before the truth comes spilling out. “No, Mat knows it’s all bullshit. He just knows where his loyalties lie, that’s all, and it isn’t with that bastard. The record thing was trickier. It really is clean, but I had to trade info about that heist for it.”

“So you did exactly what you accused Lo- accused Rogue of,” Harry answers numbly. “You were the one working with the cops all along, and you sold crew secrets to wipe my record.”

“Wasn’t exactly hard. He was always hanging out with Payne, it was a piece of cake to get that photo.”

“And Pierre?” Harry asks. “Did you plant the evidence?”

“Dumb kid never even noticed his hoodie went missing.” Tucker shrugs nonchalantly. “Easier to get a criminal arrested for committing a crime than it is to get a criminal dethroned for following the law, though. Your job’s easy. You just need evidence that he’s a criminal, and then you hand it over to the cops and voila.”

“What about a car he stole from the Prime Minister’s assistant, would that do? He keeps it at his place, I could grab it. Turn it in. Could they arrest him on that?”

“That won’t put him away forever, but with a rap sheet like his and someone high up rooting against him I’m sure that would more than do the trick for getting him serious time,” Tucker snorts.

Harry could walk away right now and be done with it. He could leave now and go home and never look at Tucker again, and everything still would have gone exactly according to plan. Even still, he can’t stop himself from asking one more question with a clear of his throat. “Why’d you do it, Tucker?”

Another shrug, just as unconcerned as the last. “Just don’t like him. It wasn’t for money, or power. I don’t want the crew to crumble or anything, I mean hell, they’re even better off now. It’s not like I gave the cops anything really good. Just wanted a bit of fun, that’s all. Just wanted to see the almighty Rogue suffer. That’s it.”

“Mission accomplished,” Harry says as he turns on his heel and begins his retreat.

It’s quiet enough that Tucker might not have heard, but if he did, he probably took it as confirmation that his plan to hurt Louis had worked. Harry half meant it that way. It was half a congratulations to Tucker, but it was also half a congratulations to himself.

As he makes his way back to the car waiting two block down and around the corner, Harry reaches one hand underneath the hem of his shirt and fingers the wire taped to his torso. He thinks of Liam’s solemn determination as he took the borrowed device from his squad car and attached it to Harry’s chest, and Niall’s fierce loyalty as he built a program that would intercept the audio and record it live. He thinks of Louis at home in bed wondering how to start his life over, and of the promise he made to that same man. A promise to fix this.

And when he gets to the car and sees the excitement on the faces of cop and hacker alike, he thinks of the way that Louis’ face is going to light up when he hears that Harry Styles just conned a con man. It’s maybe the best thought yet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *reaches one hand out from deathbed to post this chapter* boys touch each other ahead <3

Harry hadn’t really thought the logistics of the exposé through very well. In his head there was this big dramatic moment where he stood on a tabletop and a hush fell over the room as everyone crowded close to hear Harry’s magical tale. In reality, when Harry goes to the den the next day and stands on a table to call for attention, he gets approximately six and a half disinterested looks before he’s ignored once more.

Niall, watching excitedly from the foot of the table, takes pity on him and hops up as well. “Everyone stop what you’re doing and have a listen,” he bellows, voice echoing across the room. Whether it’s the sheer volume of his shout or the newfound authority of being the next Knight of London, heads do in fact pop out from all over to look. “Harry has something to say.”

“Hello everyone,” Harry starts off nervously. “Sorry to bother you, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s about Rogue.” Whispers start to rise up, fear in the people’s eyes as they start assuming the worst. _He’s dead, he’s in jail, he’s gone snitch, he’s-_ “He’s been framed.”

Dead silence.

“I know that a lot of you had your issues with the ruling that happened here last week, and you’re right about it. He never did any of those things.” Harry squares his jaw and tries to look like he has some modicum of authority here. “There’s someone else here who was responsible for everything that happened, and he tried to make it look like it was the king. But I have proof now, that he’s innocent.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tucker is making his way through the crowd towards Harry with fury in his eyes. “You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind, Styles.”

“You’re caught, Tucker,” Harry says shakily. “I have proof.”

Tucker gives a bitter laugh as the murmurs of the crowd intensify. “Really? _That’s_ what you’re going with, that I’m the one who supposedly framed Rogue? Listen, it’s sweet and all that you’re trying to protect your little boyfriend, but we all caught him red-handed.”

“You didn’t, you lied and you made it look like he was guilty of every breach of the Code you committed,” argues Harry fiercely.

“Oh? Says who?”

“Says me,” Louis declares from just inside the back door.

He’s always had a flair for the dramatic, and this time it pays off. Murmurs turn into din as the crew realizes their former king is back, is standing among them and staring down Tucker with fire in his eye. He’s got Zayn by his side, but the new monarch does nothing to quiet the roar, instead striding ahead of Louis to square off with Tucker. “Tucker Ransom, evidence has been brought to my attention which indicates you’re guilty of treason, perjury, and being a fucking dick. I’m calling for a hearing immediately.”

“You can’t do that,” Tucker protests dumbly. “Rogue’s already been found guilty, you can’t try me for his crimes-”

“I’m sorry, are you the king, or is that me?” Zayn coldly replies. “You can be tried if you’re accused of framing him, that’s perfectly fine. Harry’s acting as the accuser. The Code states that any crew member can call for a trial by Counsel if he or she has evidence of a crime, and personally I’d love to hear what Harry has to say.”

The blood is slowly draining out of Tucker’s face, but splutter as he might there’s nothing he can really say. The room buzzes as they congregate much like the week before, except this time it’s Harry in the accuser’s chair, and Tucker in the defendant’s. As stated in the Code, the panel of counsel is made up by the king, the knight, and the oldest member of the group; Zayn, Niall and Nick sit side by side, faces solemn and sure as they look out over each invested party and the hundreds of onlookers beyond.

Zayn quiets the crowd with a raised hand and turns to Harry. “Accuser, state your case against the defendant, as clearly and concisely as possible.”

Harry’s bow is stiff and jerky, the shake of his hands evident to Louis from where he stands behind Harry’s chair. “He has falsely accused The Rogue, former King of the Thieves of London, of several acts of treason. It was in fact he who was responsible, acting maliciously towards the Rogue and without concern for the safety of the crew.”

“The counsel hears you. Defendant, what is your reply?”

“Not guilty,” Tucker blandly replies. His eyes burn holes in the side of Louis’ head.

Zayn is clearly unimpressed, but he at least refrains from rolling his eyes. “The counsel hears you as well. Accuser, what evidence do you have?”

“If I could bring forward Niall Horan to assist me-” Zayn nods and Harry gestures Niall to come forward bearing a laptop and a pair of speakers, “-I have a recording of the defendant confessing to his acts of treason, revealing his motives, and expressing openness to further endangering the crew for his own gain.”

To his credit, Tucker tries to bolt. He isn’t a stupid man, and the matching smug smiles of Harry and Louis are enough to assure him that this is no bluff. He’s smart enough to know the end when he hears it, and he makes a valiant attempt to sprint for the exit and presumably elope before anyone can get their hands on him. He just isn’t smart enough to expect that Liam is standing post by the back doors, so when the cop leaps from an alcove and tackles him to the concrete floor, he appears to be completely taken off guard.

Liam wrestles the man’s hands behind his back and pulls a pair of cuffs from his belt which he happily fastens around Tucker’s wrists. “It’s funny,” he says cheerfully as the crowd buzzes with shock and unease, “I literally never get tired of taking this asshole down. Amazing.” He hauls Tucker to his feet and prods him to walk back over to his chair, where he’s plopped unceremoniously down. “I apologize for interrupting your proceedings, Your Majesty,” he says to Zayn with a little bow. “I understand this is not meant to be open to those who aren’t a part of your crew, but I figured it was counterproductive to have people leaving right in the middle. Hope that’s alright.”

Zayn just grins. “By all means, Liam, help keep the house in order. Stick around, and make sure Tucker does too, yeah?”

And so Liam stays, a silent but steady presence by Tucker’s side as the entire, damning recording is played. There is no uproar like Harry expected, no protests that Louis thought surely Tucker’s accomplices would give. Instead there’s silence that grows from shocked to angry as the tape rolls, until the room is full of heated glances from sharp eyes and Tucker is absolutely wretched with the realization of what is to come.

“Well I’m not sure what you could possibly have as an answer to that, but you’re welcome to have a go,” Zayn says dryly.

Tucker doesn’t have a go.

Harry is asked for any further evidence, but his lack thereof doesn’t seem to bother the three judges whatsoever. “I think we’re all pretty much in accord here,” Nick says with eyebrows raised, and looks to Niall and Zayn for confirmation. “No need to pussyfoot about with private deliberations. I vote guilty.”

“Guilty,” Niall agrees.

“Guilty as fuck,” answers Zayn. “The counsel is in agreement. Tucker Ransom, you are hereby found guilty of treason and perjury, offenses which entail banishment from the city’s crew. As the King of the Thieves of London, I order you to leave the premises immediately. You are to have no further association with this organization, else you will risk further punishment. Do I make myself clear?”

 _Now_ there’s noise, excited babbles that turn into cheers as Liam leads Tucker to the exit and uncuffs him. For a moment Tucker looks livid, like he might try to protest his innocence one last time, but then he catches sight of Liam’s determined gaze, spits once on the floor, and makes his final exit.

Mat is dragged before the counsel next for his part in the crimes, and Harry once again stands as the accuser for what will likely be the shortest trial in crew history. Louis doesn’t pay attention to any of that, though- he’s slipping through the crowd unnoticed while all eyes are on Mat, making his way to the back door and exiting into the night.

It doesn’t take long to catch up to Tucker, who’s kicking over trash cans in a rage three blocks down. He catches Louis out of the corner of his eye and they’re face to face in an instant. “You think you won, because you got me kicked out?” he hisses bitterly, shoving Louis’ shoulder and making him stumble just a bit. “You think this is over now, just because some stupid court found me guilty? It’s not even real, they have no authority-”

“You get less and less intelligent every time you open your mouth,” Louis interrupts, his words as sharp and biting as an English winter. “Shut up and listen. If it helps you sleep at night you can tell yourself that this crew has no authority, but when you close your eyes I want you to remember who controls half the criminals in this city. I want you to think about that when you’re leaving London and staying gone, because I don’t care what the Code says about you being allowed to stay in here. Are you listening to me, Tucker?

“Because if I ever see you within the London city limits again, I will personally make sure that every lowlife in London makes your life a living hell. I don’t have to be the king to tell you that this is _my_ city, and you are no longer welcome. Now, do I make myself perfectly clear?”

All Tucker can do is stare as Louis turns away. Louis waits until his back is to the man to let the smile creep across his face, grinning from ear to ear all the way back to the den. His whisper gets swallowed up in still night air. “Who wins now, fucker?”

…………………

Harry is waiting for him just inside the entrance. “You missed the big dramatic moment where Zayn declared your innocence and reinstated you as a member of the crew,” he frowns, and the way his smile peeks through the scolding makes Louis marvel how he pulled off this masterpiece of a con in the first place. “You could have done a super cool speech or something, it was really an opportunity missed.”

“I don’t give a shit about a cool speech right now,” Louis sighs with contentment, tugging them away from the doors into a nearby stairwell, considerably cozier and more private than the drafty entryway. “Don’t need a cool speech. I’m just fucking ecstatic to be home, to be honest.”

“So you’re happy now?” asks Harry hopefully, cupping Louis’ face in his hands. “You’ll smile for me some more now? The real one, not that fake, tired one you do when you think you’re fooling me.”

Louis laughs, his first deep laugh in what feels like ages, and kisses Harry’s grin. “Yes, baby, of course. All the smiles you could want for my brilliant boy. You’re brilliant, did you know that? A million smiles for you. And kisses. Also blowjobs, unlimited supply.”

“And all I had to do was pull off a con?” Harry quirks one eyebrow. “I would have done this sooner if I’d known I got unlimited blowjobs.”

“Like I was denying you any before,” scoffs Louis. “How could I? Could never say no to you, when you stand there looking so gorgeous and clever and fucking _gorgeous.”_

Maybe it’s the endorphins of victory -it’s almost definitely the endorphins of victory- but Louis can’t seem to help himself when his hands drift down and work to unfasten the top of Harry’s jeans. He smothers Harry’s gasp of surprise with a kiss and reaches into Harry’s pants to take hold of his cock, giving him solid, gentle strokes that have his knees shaking in anticipation before he’s even fully hard. “We’re in public, Lou,” Harry finally has the presence of mind to protest. “Anyone could walk by and see us.”

“No one’s going to come back here,” Louis hushes him, still steady stroking. “They’re busy, they’ve got emotions to process and gossip to spread and shock to recover from. I can make you come right here and nobody will even know.”

He believes it, too, which is why they both jump about a foot in the air when Zayn clears his throat from the stairwell entrance.

“Jesus fuck, Zayn, could you knock first or something?” Louis mumbles, blushing in spite of himself. He keeps his hand in Harry’s pants, though, because best friends don’t cockblock each other and Zayn knows full well he needs to leave.

“You’re in public, Louis, I’m not knocking,” Zayn answers with a roll of his eyes. “Hate to interrupt, but you need to come up to the office. I need to brief you on what’s been happening since you left.”

“Yeah, yeah, you can fill me in later. I’m a bit in the middle of something, if you hadn’t noticed, so I think you can hold off giving me my assignments for like ten minutes.”

“Probably won’t be more than three,” Harry pants helpfully

“No, Louis, it can’t wait. Don’t you think the king ought to know what’s going on in his kingdom?” Zayn holds his hands up to cut off Louis’ protests before they begin. “I meant what I said before you left, Lou. You were born to be king, and there is no one who’s going to do this job like you can. When I asked Niall to be my knight, we agreed to this, yeah? We agreed that we were going to work together and do our best to get you reinstated, because you belong on that throne.” He grins a little wryly. “Harry beat us to the punch on the whole ‘saving the day’ thing, but we still want you back, yeah? We want you as king, right back to the way things were. It’s how it’s meant to be.”

There’s a lump in Louis’ throat that he can’t seem to swallow away, and it has everything to do with the enormity of what his best friend of four years is telling him with this earnest expression. “I dunno, if I agree to be king again it means I have to take my hand out of Harry’s pants and go do work,” he jokes, trying to shoo some of the heaviness from the room. “I’m just not sure that I’m willing to do that.”

But of course Harry’s there to help Louis say the things he can’t quite say. “You’re a good man, Zayn,” he says quietly, pecking Louis gently on the cheek as he extracts the hand from his pants and zips back up. “Go. You’ll see me when you get back.”

The words aren’t lost on Louis. His mind races back to the last time he heard those words from Harry, to when he sat happily behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit, all for this beautiful boy. The last time, the words were full of questions. Now they’re all steadiness and strength. “Okay,” he whispers back. “If you promise.”

And Harry leans in for a kiss, just like he wanted to even way back then. “Of course, Your Majesty. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to finally have all of this posted for y'all! I started writing this even before Give Me Truths was done (there was a reason it took seven months to write GMT, and the reason was TKAI) and it's long been a favorite. Y'all know me and my power kinks, after all! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this ^_^
> 
> canonlarry | tumblr


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